Silent Hill: The Holy Mother
by EternalFlare
Summary: Someone else is attempting to bring the Holy Mother to our world, and it's once more up to the Reciever of Wisdom to foil them. Rated M for potential extreme violence and swearing.
1. Chapter 1: Confinement

_Well, what do you know!? I've decided to write more Silent Hill Fanfiction! This is with the same format as _The Red Angel_, but differs greatly. This is a semi-sequel to Silent Hill 4, using the Descent of the Holy Mother but with different sacrificial names.. Who is behind the sacraments? Can't say at the moment. This is also first-person, and is a novella, meaning it's less than 40,000 words long. If it's more, classify it as a novel. The main character is trapped in a two-story house in Ashfield; this chapter is short, with the discovery of the hole. As normal with my first few chapters, they'll be short, but should get longer and with more content as I establish a flow. With these things aside, I present:_

Silent Hill: The Holy Mother

(**This is a novella. It is told through the perspective of David Willand.)**

Chapter 1: Confinement

'Holy s—.'

These words escaped my mouth as I approached my front door. There, upon my door, were chains. Thick, sturdy chains sealing off the front door. The worst part: they were inside the house.

I stepped back. I drew a sharp breath and paced around. I had nothing in my house to break the chains, save shooting them with my rifle in my basement – but my basement, too, was sealed up. Not by chains though, oh no: it was just locked.

This was the first day of my sentence. I spent all day pondering ways to break the chains or escape my two-story house. I tried to break a window: nothing. I began to chisel away at the chains, and then the wall, and then the windows: it never did a thing. I clicked my tongue and went to the bathroom. After relieving myself, I went to the laundry room. I put on some jeans and a better shirt, and began to do some daily activities.

My television didn't work.

My phone didn't function.

My radio wouldn't turn on.

I sighed and threw myself upon the couch. Opening a bottle of my good friend Jack Daniels, I drowned myself in alcohol until I fell fast asleep.

I woke up and continued in the same fashion for a while. But then I began to grow restless. I sang random snatches of songs to amuse myself. I drew pictures, wrote in a journal of my experiences, and acted out random scenes from video games and movies.

I was passed out on the couch, on the third day, when I heard the crash. I shot up lightning fast, too fast – I fell of the couch and hit my head on the coffee table. Cursing I stood, and tried to find the source of the sound. It was in my hallway closet, a gaping hole in the ground. I took a pocket flashlight and aimed it down. There was a small path of concrete, but leading which I way I could not tell. I, reluctantly, climbed down unarmed – for I could find naught to use as a weapon.

Crouched because of the low ceiling, I walked the narrow path until my back hurt; I then switched to my hands and knees. For about thirty seconds I crawled, until I came to a small doorway. The ceiling rose, and I stood and stretched my back out. I noticed I was in a strange shrine, with a pedestal in the centre.

I came up to the pedestal and found a small note in it: _The Door to Assumption, and the Key to Truth_. I shined my flashlight on the wall: there was a door there, though it blended in with the wall. I approached and turned the knob: locked. Sighing and feeling disappointed, I raced back to the house.

There was a knock on the door – I checked the side windows: it was Emily Callel, one of my friends whom I had feelings for. Brown hair, green eyes, tall, thin, and beautiful; I bashed the window to get her to see.

Nothing.

She didn't even hear me. She just sighed and came up to my window. She peered through the glass, and her eyes met mine – and passed through.

'Goddamn it!' I screamed. 'I'm right here!' Punching the windows furiously, I screamed her name and 'I'm here!' She sighed and walked away.

'She can't see me – or hear me?' I asked stupidly to myself, not wanting to believe I was _this_ screwed.

I heard a crash again, and wondered if it was another hole. If so, where would it lead? Not caring too much, I walked casually to the closet; nothing aside from the first hole. I went to the laundry room – and there, clear as day in the wall, was a wide and perfectly circular hole. The planks in the wall had split; but one hung low, a long one. I tore it out, and it came out with three nails bent at the end.

I inserted the plank and tapped the walls: stone. Terrified, I stepped back and hunched, looking in. There was a white light at the end, far away.

_This may lead out_, I thought. _But aren't you going to question the appearance of a hole here? Stone walls, and leading outrageously far through mid-air; this hole can't exist._

_Who cares?_

That settled the argument. I gripped the plank in my right hand and climbed in. I crawled towards the light, every minute seeming an hour. At last I reached the light, and put my hand onto it. It was air. I crawled forward, but lost balance and fell head-first into the hole.

I lost consciousness.


	2. Chapter 2: Horrors of Body and Mind

_It is good to write Silent Hill, and I thoroughly enjoy it. There's a certain level of freedom you get in Silent Hill, as anything can happen. Oh, and on a side note, this takes place after _The Room_, but before _The Red Angel_. There will be no Wish House or Water Prison in this, though a Building world isn't unlikely. Who knows, all I can think of at the moment is this place. Chapter 2:_

Chapter 2: Horrors of Body and Mind

I woke up sprawled about the floor, with a pungent odour hanging around me. It may have been my unkempt hair and unwashed body, but this was a truly terrible smell. Rising, I looked around while plugging my nose. I was in a hallway, white for the most part, with tiles, and small decay in the walls.

I remembered I had the plank, and I turned in my hand for a moment. I then looked at my clothes to see if they were dirtied at all: my work shirt with pockets was not; my jeans weren't; my boots weren't; my hair, though, as I ran my hand through it, was thick with grease. Realising there was naught I could do about it, I began to walk forward. At length I came to a door to the side; I opened it.

It opened to a very small room, very dirty and simple: only a desk and a lamp sat at one end, and a shelf of books at another. I checked the drawers of the desk, and the bookshelf. There was nothing of use, just books and papers. I left and continued down the solitary hall.

I turned the corner and saw a young guy, blonde hair, in a T-shirt and jeans, looking around helplessly. I raised my hand slowly and yelled 'Hey!' He jolted, and turned to me. He was quivering very nervously, and he stayed in place.

'Who are you?' he asked. His fist clenched, ready to fight.

I dropped the plank and held up my hands. 'I don't want to hurt you. My name is David – what's yours?'

'Shaun,' he said, sighing relief.

'Okay, Shaun. Would you mind telling me where I am?'

'I don't know, myself,' he said, scratching his head. 'I woke up in here, and I've been trying to find the exit for quite a while.'

'Are you the only person here?'

'I don't know.' His face fell grim.

I raised an eyebrow, and took a step closer. 'What do you mean?'

'I told you, I don't know. They look human but–.' He trailed off, and turned around.

'You better keep that plank close by.'

'Why?' I asked, frightened by his serious manner. 'Is this place. . . dangerous?'

'Very,' he said. 'They're everywhere. Lucky you, David: you have a plank. I got nothing.'

'You can come with me,' I offered, dreading to be alone.

'Nah, I'm fine. I've almost found the way out.'

'Great! I'll follow you.'

'If you follow me, then you're risking your own life. I'm being–.' He laughed grimly, and jogged away.

'Shaun,' I called weakly. He was out of sight. I scooped up the plank, and looked around. There was a small hallway jetting to the side, or I could follow Shaun down and to the left. I decided to investigate the hall on my right.

There were two doors at the end, one on the end wall and one to the left. I tried the one on the end wall: locked. I opened the door to the left, and stepped in. The first thing I heard was a moan.

After what Shaun said, I wasn't about to say hello. This was an animal moan, a deep staccato of low vibrations. Gripping the plank harder, I stepped forward. The room was like the first one, save a curtain at the end with something moving behind it. Like an idiot, I walked forward. I heard a grunt, again animal, and from behind the curtain an abomination stepped out. It was a lizard, only bloodstained and with flesh. No eyes did it have, but a gaping mouth with many small teeth. It lumbered forward sluggishly. Primal fear enveloped me; I cast a gaze to the weapon in my hand, and I breathed deeply.

With a primordial yell I brought the plank down with astounding force, the nails digging into its flesh – as I pulled back, the flesh ripped off. The beast's back cracked from the impact, and it fell to the ground with a groan. I leapt upon it, crushing its throat and stomach as hard as I could. It struggled for air. Despite it being an abomination, I had pity. I begged for a gun to put it out of its misery. In my mania, I hadn't even seen if it was hostile. I found myself in grief over this. As hard as I could, unwanted tears blinding my eyes, I brought my shoe's heel upon its skull, spilling brain matter all over the place. It moved no more.

I threw open the door and dove out, bawling over my rashness and horror, and vomiting from my disgust. I sat in a corner when I recovered, breathing heavily. The plank was still in somewhat mint condition, which was somewhat peculiar. The creature's moans kept playing in my mind.

I decided that it was surely fit to do harm, and that if it had been hostile, I would have been injured badly if not for my instinctual actions. Collecting my composure, I stood and continued down the hall. Turning I saw a human figure.

It was sprawled about the ground, seemingly recovering. I heard frantic footsteps running away, but I didn't care. I approached the person. It turned: I saw it was a very pale man, with red hair and a long beard. He was clad in robes. It looked up at me, and then I screamed.

It floated up.

'Holy shit!' I screamed as I fell backwards, frantically gripping the plank. Its eyes were vacant; it slowly started towards me. My head began to hurt, but I was too terrified to notice. Then the instinct kicked in. When you see a floating human, you tend to get a little suspicious – Shaun's words flashed back to me in an instant.

I scrambled to my feet and dashed forward with the plank. Rearing back I crashed the plank into the man, and he, due to the nails, was propelled into the wall to my left. He moaned an unhuman moan upon contact, and floated backwards to face me. I raised the plank and brought it down hard on his skull. He crashed to the floor, and reached for my leg. His nails tore into my skin and, though not drawing blood, hurt like hell. With the plank I beat his arms off, and then brought my heel down upon his head. It didn't crack, but he didn't move. I ran forward a bit, thinking the battle won – but I heard the moan again. Not thinking, I ran forward.

I tore ass across the long hall until I came to a stairwell. I darted up it with fierce speed, and once upon the supposedly fourth floor, I threw open the door and sprawled into it, slamming it behind me. I slid on my backside across the floor, breathing heavily.

I heard an animal moan.

I looked up and there was another Lizard. No, there were two, one farther back. I scrambled to the door and leaned against it. All thoughts of compassion flew from my mind. Nothing was docile here. Yelling like a madman I beat the Lizard furiously, and broke its skull with the plank alone. It moved no longer.

The second one was upon me then, and as I turned it roared, preparing to lunge forward. Not thinking, I raised the plank to fight unto death.

Gunshots rang out, and the Lizard screamed in pain. It slumped and died. Shaun stood nearby with a smoking pistol. I caught my breath as he approached and kicked the hell out of the monster. Standing, I leaned on the plank for mental support.

'What – just happened?' I asked.

'Are you retarded? I just saved your life,' Shaun said.

I would have hit him with the plank had he not had a gun, or just killed a giant Lizard that would have injured me otherwise. So I shook my head; then I reared up and kicked one fiercely. It sailed across the room, and smacked into the wall.

'You'd do better to be careful,' Shaun said. 'I trust you've seen those Ghosts?'

'The man?'

'Sure, whatever makes you feel better. If you get a gun, don't bother with the little things – pump your bullets in them. Trust me, if you don't want to die. _Austa la vista_.'

He walked away, leaving me alone once more.

_What's his deal? Is he a loner or something?_ I stood and opened a nearby door. Silence. Walking in further, I found it was a break room. There was a gaping hole, about the size of the one in my house. Not thinking, I climbed through it, hoping it led somewhere, anywhere, else. Except, of course, somewhere similar.


	3. Chapter 3: Solitude

_Nothing much to say in this intro, except that this is Chapter 3. I've taken a small vacation day (I still wrote, but I wrote _leisurely_), and I brainstormed ways for these victims to die. I think some of them are generic, but there's one in particular I like. I can tell you that the greatest enemy ever, Pyramid Head, will make an appearance as an enemy in several chapters. On! To Chapter 3:_

Chapter 3: Solitude

I woke up on my bed, with full memory of the dream I'd just had. Or so I thought, until I leaned forward and felt a small stabbing in my side. The plank was in my hand, with bloodstains on it. My jeans had bloodstains on them, and I leapt up.

I raced downstairs to see if the hole was there; it was. I flew to the front door: chained and locked. The windows sealed, the whole house exactly as it was when I left.

I went to the side windows, and saw Emily was back. She brought a dark haired man, with brown eyes, dressed in black. Odd, as it was a hot day. In his belt was a gun, a double barrel shotgun, sawed off very short, and he had a cane in his right hand. He tapped on the door with the cane.

'He's not home,' he said.

'Blake,' Emily sighed. 'His car's here, and he's not typically out long on weekdays.'

'Well, I don't see anything odd,' Blake said with a tone that said he didn't care. 'What does it matter, what he does, anyway? Live for yourself. Everyone knows how you feel, Emma. Should have just told him Sunday.'

'I don't "feel" anything. He's a friend – I'm worried.'

'Hey!' I screamed. I pounded the door. 'Let me out! Open the door! There's something wrong! Let me out!'

'I don't know the guy,' Blake said, 'but I've heard rumours. Anyways, if nothing changes by tomorrow, call the police.' Blake walked away.

'Yeah,' Emma said. 'But, what could keep a man alone for four days?'

'Damnit,' I moaned, and slid down the door. 'If only I had Shaun's gun; I may be able to blast these chains off.' I heard Emma walk away.

I grew determined to figure out what was going on. Standing, I sprinted to the laundry room and crawled through the hole.

—

I came to before the hole I'd crawled through last time. I opened the door, and ran out to the fork. I took a left, and threw open another door. I took one step further when I saw the 'Ghost'. Not wanting to get caught off guard, I ran up to him as he came at me. Swinging the plank with all my strength, the nails caught him in the eye and threw him to the other side. He bled profusely out of the socket, and stumbled (if you can call that stumbling in midair) towards me. I smote him again with the plank, right on his head, and he fell with a moan.

Kicking him in the face, I ran away from him as I heard him standing. I came to a great big network of cubicles. I ran into the nearest one, and found a clip for a handgun. Thrusting it into my pocket, I realised that I didn't have anything to truly carry things in. I contemplated going back for a bag, when I heard a gunshot. And then another. A third one was followed by a scream of pain.

I stood and bolted into the hallway, just as the Ghost came up. He socked me in the face; I went down hard. My first instinct was to roll away, and I came up with the plank. As he recovered from bending over I swung the plank upward into his face. He staggered back, wavered, and fell back with a gurgle. I turned on my heel and checked each cubicle. Two handgun clips, a soft drink, and a concrete block they yielded. I came out at the end with the Ghost nearby; I reared up and launched the block at his face. He fell back into the wall, and I didn't see him get up.

Satisfied, I ran down a small hallway, which led to a bigger hallway. At the end (all the doors along the way were locked) I came to a door with a purple plaque in the centre. I yanked it out, and looked at the picture: there was a human figure in a cube, and that was all. Upon the back was inscribed: _Solitude_.

I heard cracking sound, and a choking noise. I burst through the door and saw Shaun along a pathway, hanging by a long rope tied to a lamp that stretched over the path. We were outside, and there were many Lizards below the pathway. I ran up to him, and looked him over. He was riddled with bruises, bloodied, and his eyes were beginning to turn white.

'D-agh!-David!' he struggled to say as he gasped for air. 'H-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-e agh! found-found me! T-take the g-g-gun! Kill that f-f-uc-c-cker!'

The handgun dropped from his limp grasp, and I caught it. It was bone dry. Slamming a clip into it, I nodded. He pointed at the gun.

'S-s-shoot m-e-e!'

I gasped, and stepped back. I aimed up at the rope and shot it down. Shaun crashed to the ground, but it was no use. As I took the noose off, he was already dead. Carved on his arm was: _16121. _I hung my head, and stood. I looked back, and saw the door closing. All went black.

—

I woke up on my bed again, only now there was a handgun and a plank. I knew then it wasn't a dream. But maybe, the whole thing was a dream? It made sense.

But then I heard an ambulance rush by, and I leapt to my feet and to my window. Across the town I could see the only true skyscraper in Ashfield, and there seemed to be a large event happening there. I fell on my ass, and shook my head.

Shaun was really dead. I had seen a real human die, and was unable to prevent it. But over all, I had fought with monsters. Real monsters, and lived. I wondered what would happen now. Would I go back to the skyscraper, and be hunted myself?

I stood and went to the living room. I needed to lay down a moment. After about an hour of laying in confusion, I stood and aimed the pistol at the chains. I took a deep breath and pulled the trigger. The bullet shot forth with the usual explosive burst of heat and light, and sailed into the chain. It connected dead on, but ricocheted off the seemingly indestructible surface and soared through the wall behind me. I took a breath, realising my danger of being hit by another ricochet if I tried again, and I just holstered the pistol.

I ran to my closet and took out a small duffel bag, empty. I slung it over my shoulder and put the plank inside. I then loaded it with sodas, food, and medicinal supplies. The other clip I put in my right pocket, and I kept the flashlight in my right shirt pocket.

Realising I was ready for some deadly combat, I approached the laundry room cautiously – the hole was bigger, and odd sounds were emanating from inside of it. At length I hoisted myself inside, and began to crawl through it.

The noises were magnified the moment I stuck my head in, and they were horrible, inhuman moans reminiscent of the Lizards. I feared there was one inside the hole; but I would simply shoot it in the face if it came too close. There was none, however, and I blacked out just as before.


	4. Chapter 4: Recess

_This is moving along steadily, and I'm fond of this project, though not nearly as fond of it as I was _The Red Angel_. Contrary to how it seems, I am still working on _The Celestial Outbreak_, and though I haven't added to it lately, it is due to severe writer's block. This, however, I'm moving along at a good pace due to my knowing the whole of the story. I just wish to let you know that I will not delete _The Celestial Outbreak_, not a chance. If I do, then it'll only be because there is absolutely nothing I can do with it, as I had probably written myself into a corner. Anyway, this a different site and a different story, so let's get on to the reason we're here – Chapter 4:_

Chapter 4: Recess

I woke up on my side, curled in a ball, to the sound of a shriek. I looked up and saw I was outside. I was laying on grass, and there was a lamp post hovering over me. I brought myself up, and drew the pistol. Around me there was darkness; slowly I flicked the flashlight on, and stood. Before me there was more grass, and I started by walking in that direction. I stopped and looked up, and there were three lamps on large, stone stair, leading to two double doors.

Sprinting I reached them, and I took a breather as I leaned upon them. I heard another shriek, and it sounded human, a shriek of fear. A woman's shriek, muffled by walls, but still audible.

I kicked the door open, and there was sheer darkness in the areas where my flashlight did not reach. I stepped inside, and heard the shriek, more a plea for mercy now. I charged forward, determined to find the source of the voice. So focused was I that it never occured to me that there were monsters here.

And there were.

I felt a sharp pain in my side, and I tripped and fell – sliding, I whipped around and looked in the direction I'd come from. There was a small figure, clawed, with black eyes and decaying skin. I aimed the pistol and fired twice. One shot landed in the stomach of the monster; the other in the chest. I fired once more before I heard a moan behind me.

I stood and bolted past the monster I'd fired at, and turned to see it falling over with a second closing on from where I'd sat. Thrusting the pistol into my pocket, I took the plank out from the duffel and swung it straight at the little abomination. It fell back, but stood again. The plank rose and fell once more; the thing's skull caved in, and blood sprayed around it, and some on my shirt.

'Fuck this,' I said, and I pulled the pistol out and pumped two bullets into the thing's mind. It fell dead. Kicking it aside I bolted down the hallway. A woman came running out from a side hallway, and she saw me. She threw herself to the ground and said some things I didn't catch – I did catch 'Pyramid', and 'Receiver'.

I bent down, and nudged her slightly. She looked up, and sighed relief. 'You must be the first,' she said.

'Um, sure. My name's David; what's yours?'

'Monica,' she said. 'Monica Judillin. I worked with the Wish House, but have since reformed to a teacher. Do you teach here too? That'd explain why I'm here.'

'Um, I don't understand. What are you talking about, Monica?'

She laughed and picked herself up – she had greying hair, with strands of black, and her eyes were hazel. She was unattractive facially and bodily. 'It's beginning.'

'I'm even more lost than before.'

'I'm the Receiver of Wisdom.'

'What the hell are you talking about?'

'You must be the first. Well, I look forward to seeing his creativity. But I wonder what on Earth your name will be. . . certainly not Temptation! Ha! You are lucky, the first to be released from the Mortal Coil.'

I understood what she meant. 'I think you've got it wrong. This is the second time I've gone through the hole, lady, and I saw someone else die. So you better come with me, before you get killed too.'

Her smile faded, and her eyes bulged. She backed away. 'Cannot be! I should be the Receiver! I'm a lowly sacrament? No!' She then cackled. Her face drew up into a snarl as she pointed a crooked finger at me. 'It's you who are mistaken. I've seen the Red One. It is a sign from God herself that I am worthy!'

'Whatever. Look, watch out for those monsters. They stop at nothing. You'd do good to arm yourself.'

'Ok. Stay alive as long as you can. So long! See you on the Deathbed!'

I shook my head and walked away. There was a small staircase – I climbed it, and went through a large double door. There were two Children waiting for me: I blasted their heads with the last remnants of my clip. I slammed the other one in, and started checking all the rooms – they were classrooms.

_A school, huh? Well, doesn't bother me any. A monster is a monster, all the same. The old pistol doesn't know the difference, and frankly doesn't care._

In one classroom I found nothing useful. In another I found a key – the key to the janitor's closet. Another room yielded a clip of handgun bullets. Another, a wooden baseball bat. I put the plank away, and, ironically, the next one yielded an enemy.

The Child came at me with its claws bared, and I reared back. I swung the bat into the thing's face, and its skull was fractured from the blow. The bat snapped in half.

'Damn!' I shouted as I threw the fragments. 'Figures that when I find a good weapon, it doesn't last.' I was down to the plank and pistol once more. I'd need to find a metal bat, an iron one or something. I wanted some metallic weapon at least, one that was sturdy and melee.

Realising the need to conserve ammo, I put the pistol in my pocket and drew the plank again. It was thick, and the nails absorbed much of the force when I swung it, so I realised the plank might be a good permanent weapon. I found another pistol clip in a classroom; but the next one, across the hall, yielded a great find.

It was a journal, a child's journal, signed Ralph D—. I opened it up, and found the first page written in print:

_I hate the teachers. They don't let us talk, they don't let us laugh, they don't even let us eat for long. Walter – I miss Walter. Despite his departure, I am still his friend, and he can confide in me if ever he finds me. He went off to find his mom; I understand. But, can't he at least visit, or write a letter?_

_I've been spying on some of the girls – so vain. They care only for their looks, and the others can go to Hell. Not all women are like that though; I can realise that. Emily is a nice girl, and she talks a lot. But she's moving to Ashfield next year; I swear I'll meet her again._

_That bitch Ms. Judillin – oh, I wish I could sacrifice _her_ to God! Maybe I'll perform the Descent of the Holy Mother. But, it does seem too hard. Walter never even read much of the other scriptures, so he doesn't know about the others. If he doesn't succeed, I'll do it for him._

The journal ended there. It didn't make a bit of sense to me, but I became more suspicious of Ms. Judillin.

I closed the journal and pressed on. Even if she was a bitch, Monica didn't deserve to die, I was sure. Time pressed me, knowing that whatever killed Shaun would come for her.

Or whoever.


	5. Chapter 5: Counterparts

_Chapter 4 drew inspiration from _Silent Hill 1_,with the Demon-children and the school, but the name David I came up with on that Chapter: it's a reference to my story _Damage_, in which the main character is named David (it takes place in a school, as it says on my profile). Speaking of_ Damage_, I'm thinking about rewriting it with its original storyline and content, only better grammar and such. If I add it, it'll be on FictionPress under Horror. It's not the greatest story ever, and in fact it's not very good when I look back on it. It was such a copy of Midwich Elementary from _Silent Hill 1_. But I was young and inexperienced, and it is in my mythos. I seem to have wandered a bit, but anyways, Chapter 5:_

Chapter 5: Counterparts

I peered out into the hallway, stepping slowly and lightly. Drawing the pistol at length, I darted up the stairway adjacent to the room I was in. On the roof, I opened it up to see that there was a shadowy figure across the way. I darted forward, aiming but not shooting. When I approached, I caught a glimpse of a dark-haird person with a parka on. How he could have a parka on, I don't know, as it was pretty warm up there. He darted forward, slamming into me and rushing down the stairs. I lost my breath, and fell backwards.

'Wait!' I cried, but he was gone.

I heard a moan, and saw three Children climbing the steps. I took aim and unloaded all my bullets remaining in the clip into them. Popping the expended magazine out and slamming a fresh one in, I looked up and saw they had gained considerably. One was dead, but the rest were still alive. I blasted each one in the head, and now I had a total of eighteen bullets, ten per clip. I hoped to find another magazine, but there was nothing on the roof save a small wrench. Not wanting to miss anything with some potential importance, I put it in the bag.

I stood and went back down stairs, and came upon the Janitor's closet. I unlocked it, and found a clip, a long bolt and a small nail. There was a note on the table, along with a key: _John, the other Janitor, took my hammer and chased that punk out of here. He says he threw it at the kid when he went into the boiler, but didn't have the guts to go get it. What a coward. Then again, that place is pretty creepy. . ._

I took the key and went to the stairs. There was a small door, padlocked – I used the key, and the padlock came off easily. I threw it aside, and opened the door. The first thing I heard was a moan, and I walked inside to see a tall, hunched figure with a metrestick in its hand. It looked to me and roared. I realised it was a teacher, and aimed the handgun as quick as I could. This Teacher had no face, only a swollen mass of flesh obscured by the steam emanating from the boiler. I then saw that there was a lot of machinery around; a stray shot (or ricochet) could break something important. Maybe the boiler could turn the lights on? I'd have to fight the Teacher with the plank.

I took out the plank and walked slowly forward. The Teacher-demon was spurred into motion and smacked me in the leg with the metrestick. It hurt, but I blocked out the pain and stifled my cry. Rearing back far with one hand, I brought the plank into forceful collision with the demon. It screamed and was thrust to the side. Upon hitting the wall its swollen face burst in a storm of pus and blood. I, luckily, jumped back to avoid the storm. I found the hammer on the floor, but it was too short to use as an effective weapon.

'Son of a b–,' I said before collecting my calm. Everything aside from a handgun and a plank was useless as a weapon. 'I'll find something that I can use, I'll find something.'

I took the wrench and found that there was a plate on one of the machines; it was missing a bolt. I applied the bolt to it, until I realised that there may be something behind the plate. I unfastened the bolts, and found a small lever. _What's the bolt for? And the nail?_

I hammered the nail into the plank, giving me four deadly nails at the end. I saw a small piece of paper by a large tank: _Warning: make sure ALL bolts are fastened tightly before turning lever, otherwise power-up may result in fatal explosion._

'Does – does whatever is causing this know how a machine works?' I asked aloud. I took the bolt out and climbed over the tank. There was a large iron plate on that side, removed when applying/replacing/repairing the current engine. It was missing a bolt, which I applied, and then I figured everything was fine.

I leapt back over the tank and fastened the lever in its appropriate spot. I switched it on, and all the lights came on in a brilliant spur of the engine. I didn't know much about machines, but I figured that this wasn't quite accurate. Not caring, I flicked the flashlight off and ran up the stairs.

I saw Monica walking down the hall, staring at wonder at all around her.

'Are you okay?' I asked from down the hall, and I jogged to catch up with her. She looked at me incredulously.

'I can't believe you aren't dead yet!'

'Thanks for caring,' I said. 'You're about to die, though, and I'm going to make sure that I'm around to stop it.'

'Fool! You can't stop Death, yours or mine. He's coming, right now, so get away from me!' She ran down the hall.

I almost followed, but I heard an unfamiliar growl. I turned and saw floating humans, but different. Other Ghosts, I figured, and I raised my pistol to meet them. _Unload into them_. I pulled the trigger thrice, hitting two out of four of them.

_There are more than one? What are these things?_ I didn't have time to contemplate; I shot three rounds into another, and it went down. I shot two into one's face, and it went down. I jammed a clip into the gun, but now they were close, and still getting back up.

Acting on instinct I kicked out, catching a man in the groan; but another came up and seized me by the throat. Its teeth were bared: slowly its head came down towards my throat. Terrified, I lifted the pistol and blasted its skull. Falling, I rolled to the right and opened fire on the Ghosts. When a nice little path cleared, I darted away down the stairs. There was the cafeteria, which I ran into. A small storage closet, an iron door, loomed before me; I hid inside.

Catching my breath, I listened. I heard a stretching sound, and moans of humans. Strange squishing noises emanated from beyond the door, and I felt my head start to hurt again. Suddenly one slammed into the door; I stood and braced it. Their nails grated against the metal, their inhuman moans echoed through the walls.

Weeping silently in fear I braced the door, and there was no knob, just a handle for pulling (on my end). I saw a crate of meat, rotten, but still heavy. Stretching out one hand I grasped the side and heaved it towards me. It scarcely moved, but slowly it came nearer. I got it close enough to prevent the door from opening widely, and I went to the other side. The door shot open, hitting the side of the crate. I blasted the Ghost pushing it; he fell back and moaned. I slammed the crate into the door; the pounding continued until they realised that there was no getting in. I leaned against the crate and spied a hole on the other end of the room. I crawled through it, needing security.


	6. Chapter 6: Arrogance

_Chapter 6: I plan on making the next 'World' a little longer (in terms of chapters and pages). So far it's been one introduction, one exploration, and then the death chapter per World. I'm not sure how, but the next World is going to be longer. Anyway, here's Chapter 6:_

Chapter 6: Arrogance

I woke up on the bed again, but I knew I'd been through what I'd been through, and I laid back, relaxing. I was expending my ammunition too quickly, and I considered putting the handgun away, going solo with the plank. It was a trusty weapon, but not powerful enough for the task at hand.

I knew that whatever killed Shaun was going after Monica now; I'd have to hurry and find her. I took a soda out and guzzled it down. Wiping the moisture off my lips with my sleeve, I threw the can away and grabbed my bag. I was about to enter the laundry room when I heard a fearsome bang upon my door. I inspected to see a note under it: _Go to the boiler._

I was surprised, but strange events were beginning to be numb to me. Monsters do that to a person. I stuck the note in my pocket and went to the laundry room. I hesitated going through the hole, but necessity outweighs discomfort. I climbed through.

—

The Ghosts were gone. I drew the pistol and moved the crate. There was nothing beyond the iron door.

Entering the halls, I kept the pistol ready. I saw one Ghost down the hall, but he was facing away from my desired route. I sprinted to the stairway, and leapt down to the boiler. There, before the machine, was a gaping hole, leading into a pitch black room. I leapt and landed upon concrete – the room was tall enough for me to stand in.

I walked forward and found a wooden door with a note on it: _Dear Monica – if the kids misbehave, lock them in Chamber 6; 1-5 have severe water damage, and 7-13 have been sealed off due to the flood. If Chamber 6 is overcrowded, open the chutes._

I read the notes over and over again. 'Kids? Chutes?' I said out loud. Something extremely fishy was occurring here. No normal school had 'Chambers', I'm sure. And Monica was part of this . . . thus if she died, I'd never know what the Hell this was all about. I opened the door, and found it was extremely cold in the hall it opened too. There was a strong flow of air, and it was sheerly frigid. I was startled, but the cold didn't bother me. It was the smell, a rotten smell emanating from every surface.

'I am officially in Hell,' I said as I strode forward. There was a dilapidated wooden door to my side. The knob turned, but the door wouldn't open. I shrugged and walked forward a bit. There was a steel door before me, rotted and flaky, caked with rust. A large _1_ was written upon its centre. I tried to open it, but the same thing happened as with the wooden door.

A ways beside it was _2_. I tried this one; it opened slightly, but a horrid smell came through the slit and I closed it quickly. When I tried it more, it was jammed, and wouldn't budge. I moved on to _3_; it opened to a room caked in rust, and covered in blood. I closed it quickly. Chamber _4_ opened up to a corpse hanging upon a wall, strapped in barbed wire. Its chest was covered in blood, and a mask was over its face. I closed the door and went to _5_. It was empty, save the smell.

Chamber _6_ yielded demon-children, three to be precise. One shot in the head disposed of each. There was a small note on Chamber _7_: _If the problem persists, we'll have to close down the whole organisation. Fix it. You know what I'm talking about: chute 2-B is completely flooded due to that disasterous cave-in, thus blocking our fastest escape route_._ First we have to fix the stairs, because to get to 2-B you have_ _go down chute 1-C and then go upstairs, all because the stairs going from level 1 to 2 are damaged from the water. To reach the 1__st__ level from the 3__rd__, you have to go through the emergency exit on level 5 and reenter from the boiler room! Our sponsors our displeased, and think us incompetent due to this. Fix it, or all our asses are fired. _

I pocketed the note, and forgot about the other chambers. Chute 2-B had an emergency exit? So did level 5, but it wasn't specified, and it'd take less time to find 2-B than 5-#. So I found chute 1-C; upon opening the door, I found the whole room was the chute. It was a big room, as big as the Chambers, and massive air was coming up through the gaping hole. I leapt in, and landed on a small slab of metal. I tried to exit through the door, but it was jammed. I turned back, and saw this room was a chute too.

I jumped down, and when I tried this room's door, it opened. I immediately wished it hadn't, though. I heard heavy breathing, and when I turned, there was a monster unlike any I'd ever seen just down the hall. It had a helmet on, shaped like a pyramid, and it was blood red; it carried a large sword. Fortunately, it was turned away, guarding the opposite direction. I looked to my right, and saw a staircase leading up. Slowly and quietly I snuck up the stairs. I must have made a noise of some sort, for it turned around and wailed.

I loosed all my remaining clip in it, but it just bounced off. Slamming the last clip inside, I put the pistol away and grabbed the plank. Not stupid, however, I ran up the stairs. I heard its enormous sword scratching metal as it stepped onto the stair. I leapt two at a time, coming ultimately on the second floor. The Red Pyramid was almost up the stairs; I sped down the hall, frantically looking for room 2-B. I found it and swore. A placard was upon the door.

Quickly I took it out and examined the back: it said _Arrogance_ and had the picture of a figure with a sword about to fight a large dragon, about sixteen times its size; indeed I had to look hard for the person. I opened the door and gasped, but remembered to shut the door.

I didn't hear the Pyramid-thing trying to get in, but even so, I couldn't have cared if he crashed in with a chainsaw. I was before a large pool, filled with grey water with traces of red. I kneeled down, and searched for a corpse. I fell back when I saw it. Monica was _eviscerated _and _dismembered_. Her various body parts floated in different places, and I saw her head rising. Carved upon it was '_16121_'. I felt my recent food start to rise up; I vomited in the pool, and fell on my ass.

All went black.

—

I woke up on my bed, my stomach churning with the repulsive image playing back over and over and over and over and over and _over_! I raced downstairs and tore out a loaf of bread; I put it in the toaster. After the minute or two I wolfed it down to settle my stomach.

I fell backwards, writhing on the ground. My stomach – after many minutes – settled, but I was left aching and weary. I didn't want to go through the hole again. I didn't want to see people die, I didn't want to fight monsters, and I didn't want to be scared by the slightest movement.

I had to though; as much as fear effected me, so did imprisonment curiosity. I had to see what was next, and hope as hard as I could to prevent it. But there was another, more repressed yet stronger fear, that panged at me with each painful movement through the hole.

_What if _I'm_ next?_

What if I was the next victim? Would I be able to fight whatever was killing these people? And, the golden question, how would I die? Flame broiled? Suffocation? Riddled with bullets to the point that I'm magnetic? Whatever it was, why not get it over with? If the monsters didn't get me, or the Ghosts, I'd ultimately die of either starvation, or be murdered horribly.

The hole was my only salvation. To see what I was into, to try and stop this ere it was over, whatever the Hell it is.

Give a man no options, and you leave him no choice.

I climbed through the hole, which had grown significantly larger, and now there were a lot of curves. Still, even if the thing went in a loop, I'd continue. I had no choice, armed only with a pistol and plank, but to face the horrors of the hole.

It was in the hole that I realised that I had forgotten the pistol. I'd thrown it on the floor when I convulsed, and now all I had was the plank. I couldn't go back now. I had to continue. There were those holes in the Other World that took me back. I'd get it then.

If, that is, I lived long enough.


	7. Chapter 7: Elevation

Chapter 7: Elevation

It was _cold_.

_I need a coat._

I was on the ground, flat on my stomach. With a sharp breath, just feeling the cold, I jumped to my feet and looked around. Fog, as far as the eye can see. I knew I was elevated because I had an innate fear of falling. That, and the floor was somewhat damaged from water and air. I took, at length, the plank, and walked slowly in one direction. In no time I found myself looking off a ledge, misty, and no end visible. I was utterly terrified.

I walked along the edge until I found a right bend. I walked along that edge and ultimately came to a corner leading left. I walked along it, and came to a wall. I walked along the wall and came to a door. I opened it, and stepped through. It was not nearly as cold in here as it was out there, but still chilly. Shivering, I looked around. There was a staircase going down to my left, and another door to my right. I opened it and stepped through.

No monsters. That's the first thing I listened for. I was in a hall, with walls very Victorian as well as the ceiling. There were decorative pillars to the sides, and boxes and crates of soda and food. _This must be a storage cellar_. In the corner I found a clip for my handgun, and pocketed it. There was a key on a crate on the right side of the room; I took it, and examined the head. Carved in it was 'Tool room'. Smiling, knowing the things required to run machinery, and knew a new weapon was close by.

It was not a dead end; there was a ladder leading up. I climbed, and it lead to a spire with a bell in it. I knew where I was then. I was in a clock tower. I went to move the bell, but it was stuck fast. Some sort of locking mechanism I guess, to prevent it from ringing. I didn't blame them. The wind was strong up here. I climbed back down, and there was a Ghost waiting for me.

I raised the plank and smacked him with it. He hit the wall, and slid down, moaning. My headache ceased as I flew threw the door and ran down the stairway. It spiraled a little, and at the bottom there was a red carpet and elegant lighting fixtures lining the walls. Before me there was a door labeled _Staff room_, and to my right there was a room labeled _Tool room_. Giddy, I walked up to it and slid the key in it. The door opened, and I felt my heart drop.

The place was empty, save an oversized monkey wrench on the wall. It was way too heavy to be effective. I screamed in frustration, and looked for something useful in here. A clip for the handgun, but that wasn't a big deal. A note that said'_The bell extends the Bars of Freedom, but Freedom has many forms_.' The bell extends . . . a ladder? Bars of Freedom probably meant a ladder, so if I rang the bell the exit would open? I'd have to unlock the bell mechanism. But that was easier said than done. I had no clue how to do so. I hoped there was someone else here to help. I wouldn't let them get away.

There was small stone, a square face and rectangular sides. On its face was written: **The Sun**. It was a yellow square with a sun on it. It was a strange thing to see, something so unusual. It reminded me of some video game puzzle. I put the stone in the duffel.

I left the room, and entered the staff room. There was a refrigerator full of soda. I left them for now; I wanted to find a hole to get my pistol. But I couldn't find one so far. Weary, I entered a door on the left side of the room. It led to a lounge, with sofas and a TV. I tried the TV but it didn't work. There was nothing else in the room but another door; it was labeled '_Manager's room_.' I found inside a desk with three chairs – one behind it, two in front. On one part of the desk there was a box of shotgun shells. I was startled, but put them in duffel anyways.

There was a painting of the clock tower behind the desk. I noticed it was crooked. Tenderly I pushed it back into place, but it gave out and fell to the ground with a snap. There was another tablet in the wall. It was grey, and had a crescent shape on the front. It was labeled **The Moon**. I put it in the duffel, not realising what the use of these were. Until I noticed the little note on the broken painting's bottom: _The Tower, forged from the Power of the Sun, and powered by the force of the Moon, with parts from the Earth and the will of the Aether_.

_So I need to find Earth and Aether? What will they do?_

There was another note on the back. _O sweet ringing of the Bells! Whom do you toll for? The alignments of the Universe carry thy sweet notes across the world, opening the path to the Free spirit._

_This guy needs help_.

I left the manager's room, and entered the door on the far side of the staff room. Inside there was a grand staircase, leading downward. I reached the bottom, stone floored and with a large door leading out. It was sealed shut. Outside I glimpsed that Red Pyramid thing, though only a slight glance due to the fog. Sighing I turned and saw to doors to my left and one to my right. The doors to my left were all jammed; the right door held what I searched for.

Three holes, each square, and with stars in between each hole. I inserted **The Sun**, and then **The Moon** and **The Earth** was between both. The only one missing was **Aether**. The hole was at the bottom. Even I knew what **Aether** was: the theorised invisible substance which carries light.

I looked at the bottom and found a Post-It under it. Written upon it was '_To avoid anyone lowering the ladder accidentally, I hid the __**Aether**__ tablet with the groundskeeper. He stores it in a little room in the sewers. No punk is going to steal that!_'

_How do I get to the sewer?_

I left that room and saw that behind the stairs there was a door. Inside there was a manhole, closed, that had a note upon it. _When will the notes cease!?_ I picked it up and read its content: _To prevent the daring from taking the __**Aether**__ stone, I've hid the manhole opener under the clock-face. Take this chisel and break the third brick down from six o'clock. Any kid who does this will get charged with defacing public property as well as attempted thievery. Oh yeah, I'm a genius!_

On the manhole there was a chisel, brand new and razor sharp. I held it in my left hand and bolted out to the door. Smiling, I made my way up the stairs.

I felt insecure about the absence of a victim, but shrugged it off. I would defend myself as fiercely as I could, if it was me next. In no time I found myself where I started. I moved along the wall, and found the clock face above me. I couldn't read the time through the fog. I was about to start chiseling when I heard a scream.

A man was falling down to me. A man dressed in black, and with a double-barrel in his hand.


	8. Chapter 8: Sewers

Chapter 8: Sewer

The man landed before me, cursing and grunting. I couldn't blame him; it seemed he fell from a long way. He rolled a bit, and pushed himself up. He spied me and raised the shotgun, wild light in his eyes. I held up my hands in a sign of peace. He lowered the gun.

'Are you sane?' he asked me.

'I think so,' I said, not understanding the reason for the question.

'More sane than that other guy? What a psycho. Fucker tried to kill me with his little club. Had no choice but to leap off the side of the bell spire.' He said all this in introspect, but his tone changed then. 'Don't worry,' he said sheepishly as he pulled out to shells and knocked his shotgun's barrels down, 'this gun isn't even loaded.' He slid the shells in with calm and experience, snapping it closed with one deft hand movement.

'My name's Blake, Blake Thurle.'

'I'm David,' I said, 'David Willand.'

'You're Emily's friend!' he said slowly. 'We went by your–.'

'I know,' I said. 'I was there.'

'Why the Hell didn't you answer?'

'I did. I can't get anyone to hear me, or get out of there. Except through this weird hole, which leads here.'

'That sounds fucked up,' Blake said. 'What has happened to us?'

'I don't know,' I admitted. 'But I know that you're in grave danger. That . . . guy – he's a murderer. He's killed two other people, and I've never been able to stop him. I think he's behind this. You can't go alone, at least while he's around.'

'Don't worry about it. So, there's no way out of here?'

'Well, there may be. But I have to do stuff before it's open. You'd better come with me–.'

'If I'm being hunted, I don't want to put you in danger either,' Blake sighed. 'If you hurry–.'

'I can't hurry. I don't know what the Hell to do, but I have to try.'

'Well, good luck. I'm going to have a look around.'

'Be careful. When you're done, go into the main hall. There's a manhole: go in it. I'll be down there.'

'Okay,' Blake said. He leaned on a cane, and limped towards the door. I sat down and began to chisel. The brick was gone, and there was a manhole opener inside the crevice: it was long. I looked at it and saw it as a potential weapon. But, it was quite heavy, and rather dull.

I entered the Tower again, and there was the Ghost. He shouldered me into the wall, and I barely had the wit to punch him. He relented slightly, and I dropped the plank and picked up the manhole opener I dropped. First I skewered him with the straight end, and he sailed into the wall. I then changed sides and, with the sharp curved end, swung the opener into his face. He moaned and hit the wall to my left, then he screamed and layed down. I wasted no time in going to the main hall. I found the manhole again, and took the opener to it. Prying it open, a stench beyond the 'Chambers' filled the room. I dropped the plank and the opener in, and climbed a ladder down.

Immediately there was a hole to my right, and a door in front of me. I climbed through the hole.

—

Once through, I threw down the opener and grabbed the pistol. Two spare magazines were all I could find, and the pistol was fully loaded. Three clips to navigate the sewers on. I knew there'd be monsters down there, but I didn't have the slightest clue what.

The plank was beat badly, flaked and bloody. The nails were beginning to rust. The opener, no matter how dangerous, was simply too heavy and awkward to use as a replacement. I had come to admire the plank: it'd saved me on occasion. I'd use it until it broke, or until I found another weapon.

So I went through the hole once more, heavy of heart but ready to face anything I saw.

—

I immediately went through the door, and I was in a waterway. There were paths along the sides, steel, with water running like a stream along the centre. I ran down my side to the right, and there was a large pile of rubble blocking it. There was a small grate crossing over the water, connecting each side; I ran along it, and the other side had no rubble blocking it. I kept running until I heard a shriek, and saw a form rising out of the water. It was green, bipedal, and tall, taller than I. It had small claws, and its eyes were black.

Scared beyond any fear I'd felt so far, I leapt back and opened fire upon the beast. Three rounds to the head I dealt, and the thing fell back in the water, thrashing. Not waiting to see if it was dead, I charged forth, terrified and cold. The path ended with a small hallway to the left and a ledge leading into nothing. I veered down the hallway and there were two doors: one at the end, and one in the middle to my right. I went in the door to my right.

There was a desk, and a piece of paper was upon it. I took the piece of paper, and skimmed it thoroughly. _Well, it's official: I was told to look after __**Aether**__ and I did, but it's giving me nightmares. What does it do? People have sentimental memories from the oddest objects; but this transcends beyond that. This is _fascination_. I mean, six grand to look after it!? Oh well, it's not my business. The pay is good. Well, time for another round!_

A scrap of a diary, I figured, and sure enough, there was a purple tablet with **Aether** enscribed upon it. Its picture was abstract: a ray shooting through clouds of mist. I put it in the sports bag, and looked around. I saw something on the floor that made my heart skip a beat. There was a four ft. long sewer pipe on the ground, steel, and I took it. Putting the pistol in the bag, I longed to try it out.

I turned, and thought of a destination. Back would take me to the tower, where **Aether **would get me out. But right could take me somewhere else. I went through the right hand door at the end of the hallway, and immediately swung around to open the door. The Red Pyramid thing was in there; the door would not open. The door was wooden: I could break it down. . .

. . . if I had the manhole opener.

In despair, I circled the thing, always facing it, waiting for the time to attack. The time came when it exposed its back. I swung the pipe. It cried out in pain, and backhanded me. I hit the metallic walls hard, but my salvation came in the form of a voice through the door.

'David?'

'Blake!' I cried. 'Help me!'

'The door's locked!'

'I noticed!'

'Wherever you are, stand back.' There came a click, and then a blast. The wood of the door splintered and Blake's foot shot through, kicking a hole in big enough for him to fit. The Pyramid turned to him, and then began running frantically to him. I ran to him and screamed: 'Go!'

We dove through the hole in the door and bolted back up to the clock tower, juking the various sewer beasts that had spawned. They were in the clock tower, too. I ran to the room with the tablets. Pulling out **Aether**, I inserted the tablet into the hole far from the others. A click resounded through the whole building, and that was it. Something changed.

'Well, let's get out of here,' Blake said. I took out the shotgun shells out of my bag and gave them to him.

'We aren't out of it yet.'


	9. Chapter 9: Order

Chapter 9: Order

We were walking through the clock tower, talking of our life before the madness started. I figured I had nothing better to do during our hike to the bell.

'How come I've never met you?' I asked. 'I've been friends with Emily since high-school, yet she never introduced us to each other.'

'I don't know,' Blake said. We climbed up the steps towards the lounge room. 'I suppose she never thought to. I've known her from when she went to Midwich Elementary school in Silent Hill. They did some damn freaky things in that school; our parents pulled us out. She moved to Ashfield, I moved to Brahms. I came to Ashfield in my twenties to become a police officer.'

'You're a cop?' I asked.

'Yeah,' he said with a chuckle. 'I never was a good one, though. My aim is awful, and it's actually quite a dull job. Anyway, what do you do?'

'Me? It's complicated. I'm interning for a job in medicine, but after this, I doubt I'll make it. I've missed work for several days.' We stopped in the lounge room. 'To pay the bills I got a job at the recording studio.'

'What?'

I laughed nervously. 'I'm the studio drummer, and it pays good.'

'I see. A musician that can heal people. Now that's a combination.' I laughed once and pulled a drink from the bag. Unscrewing the cap, I offered him it. He shook his head. I drained it in six gulps.

We continued until we came the door leading to the clock face. Upon it was a placard. My heart dropped, and despair surged up in my stomach. I feebly reached out and grasped the placard, and pulling it out I saw it was blue. Carved upon it was a scale, and underneath was written: _Order_.

Stuffing it my bag without care, I stood and entered the cellar, and climbed the ladder to the spire. With a great heave, I moved the bell forward and released. A great chime filled the air, and I could hear the grating of metal on stone as the emergency ladder was extended. I climbed back down the ladder, and went back to the door leading to the clock face. Aiming my pistol, I went through it.

Towards the edge there was a large, red square, and the ladder extended down. I looked down, and back to Blake.

'Blake, I'm going to save you. Now, I don't know what's down there, but if it's dangerous, I'd better go down first.'

'Okay,' he said, visibly shaken. 'I'll fire off a shot if anything goes wrong.'

'Alright.' I gripped the ladder: the metal was freezing cold, and the perspiration on my palms wasn't helping. I slowly descended down each step. All of them felt as if they lasted a lifetime, and the ladder didn't seem to end. Granted, I was going slowly. I wanted to hear if Blake was in trouble.

Sure enough, I did.

From the top there came a blast, powerful and echoing. Cursing I raced up the ladder, and I took a moment to withdraw my pistol. Taking a breath, I climbed onto the top and saw Blake with another figure, his height and with a long, thin club in hand. He slammed it into Blake's waist, and the cop reeled backwards, loosing one more round into the Man. The Man staggered back with a cry, and Blake fell off the brink.

I then did the bravest act I think I'd ever done up to that moment, and the most reckless: I launched myself forward and leapt, sliding across the floor and extending my arm down. Blake barely caught it.

'Oh my God!' he cried, and he shook. He reached up and put his shotgun on the brink, and then began to pull himself up. I heard a click. The Man was recovered, and had pulled out a pistol similar to mine. On pure instinct I raised mine as quick as possible, and my finger repeatedly pulled the trigger. Each bullet hit the mark, and the Man was staggering greatly. Unfortunately Blake's grip wasn't too good. He slipped and we were back at the start. My pistol was out of bullets. I couldn't possibly reload.

'_Shit_!' I screamed.

The Man's gun came up again. One pull of the trigger; one bullet launched from the barrel, and Blake screamed. His hand bled profusely, and he let go. I screamed and grabbed frantically for his hand, but the blood made it slip and Blake fell to his death. I stood and slammed a clip into my pistol. Aiming I unloaded a second clip into the Man, walking closer in fury. When the gun clicked, I grabbed the steel pipe and repeatedly beat him with it. He fell to the ground and moved no more. I walked and picked up Blake's shotgun.

I turned to the ladder and looked down. Suddenly I heard a laugh and a click, and as I turned, the Man was standing! He fired a shot; it missed, but I was startled off the edge. I fell with a cry of horror. As I fell, though, I glimpsed the Man leaping off the edge.

An idea came into my head. I was falling backwards, slowly rotating. I thrust my body forward, and I flipped right-side up. Curling up, I stretched forcefully outward with my legs, propelling myself towards the ladder. My hand grasped the sides, roughly sliding down. I clenched tightly, and my hands stopped as my body fell. It hurt, but my hands stayed and my body stopped, though it bounced slightly. I frantically placed my feet on the wrungs and halted, breathing. Why hadn't everything faded? Blake must still be alive!

I slid the rest of the way down, for I had stopped myself about ten feet above ground, dropping onto stone. I cursed and inserted a clip into my pistol. I walked forward slightly. Through the fog I saw the Red Pyramid – and then another. I cast a gaze up, and tried to calculate where Blake had landed.

Firing at the rightmost Pyramid's legs, I darted to my right, and there came a bend. I turned it, and there was a black figure laying on the hard concrete. His head was completely splattered, his bones twisted and snapped, and above all, the Man was there. He was still alive. He had a switchblade and was carving _18121_ into Blake's head.

Enraged, I tore the pipe out and lunged for the man. His head snapped up and he gasped as I swung the pipe viciously at his face. He fell back and leapt up again. With one leap, he jumped away, higher than any mortal man can leap.

I leaned down and searched Blake's pocket: six shotgun shells. His gun was empty: I slid two inside and turned to the Pyramids. They were gone. I felt the world fading, and I looked down to Blake.

'I swear,' I said, choking up. 'I swear I'll kill him, buddy. He won't get away with this.' Blake's eyes were wide open. In the last moments of consciousness I closed them. Then the world went black.

–

_How many more deaths until this is over?_

_16121_

_17121_

_18121_

_What are they? Oh well. I'd better get up._

I sat up in my bed and put the bag down. I laid all my weapons on the table. I was going on strike. I'd wait for my death to come. Not like it mattered, as I couldn't prevent the deaths. I didn't matter if anyone else died. I became numb to everything.

I was on the couch, in a daze, when I noticed something that wasn't there before. There was a piece of notepad paper on the table, written in red pen. I picked it up and read it.

_This is the diary of Thomas Iridan, June 10__th__, 1994. I don't have a clue what is going on, but it's scaring the Hell out of me. Well, nothing is to be gained by random babble, so I'll start with some personal information._

_I, as you may have guessed, am Thomas Iridan, a writer for _The Ashfield Informer_, the local newspaper. Mainly I write local events, and I was working on a big article when I suddenly was thrust into this Hellish existence. I hate to think it, but if you're reading this, you may be in the same situation. I hope that my knowledge of what is happening helps you, however scarce._

Then it ended. I figured there were more, but I wasn't about to look. That helped _very_ little. But it consoled me, knowing someone may have been in the same situation as me. Granted, it may have been different. He hadn't actually explained what was going on. But it fueled the soul.

It was about an hour later when I found another stuck on my bathroom mirror. I plucked it off and read it.

_Here follows my problem: I cannot leave this house. No windows break, the doors are chained, and I can't tunnel out. The phone's dead, and the TV and the radio. I thought it couldn't get anyworse._

_But then the Hole came._

_What the Hell it is, I couldn't initially fathom. Knowing what I know now, however,_ _I know exactly what it is. But I've been trapped in the house, and the only way out is therough the Hole. But through the Hole are demons, ghosts, and . . . _them_. The Red Pyramids. I shall delve more on that subject too, but my main point is that I'm stuck in a desperate situation._

The note ended there. I stood and sighed. Seeing no more forthcoming, I decided to go through the hole _one more time_. Gathering my weapons and leaving the plank, I scrambled through the hole, which had grown to monstrous size.

The noises were detestable, growls of humans and moans of other things I cannot fathom. I objected entirely, but I was propelled to go through with this. And so I crawled.


	10. Chapter 10: Deconstruction

_Seems forever since I wrote an introduction! I wrote this in an e-mail to a friend, and it didn't quite turn out as long as I expected, so I added a fight scene. It involves a pipe, a sewer monster, and David. New weapon in next chapter. And now I present – Chapter 10:_

Chapter 10: Deconstruction

No matter how many times I did it, I don't think the feeling of just _appearing_ somewhere ever faded. I was sitting, my knees bent before me, my arms wrapped around them. The fetal postition, basically. The bag was laying beside me.

I lifted my head and looked around. The walls were white, peeling, and there were boards, caulk guns, screwdrivers, etc, laying scattered about. The room was relatively wide. Still, I couldn't shake the feeling of being trapped. I was never claustrophobic, but – well, I think you _know_ why I felt trapped.

My neck was stiff as I got out of the fetal position and stood up. I stretched about, and grabbed the pistol. I had an epiphany (for the moment) then: I had exactly five bullets remaining in my pistol. 'Shotgun,' I thought. I pulled it out of my bag, and checked it. Once more, though, my brain warned against firearms.

'_If that bastard attacks you or another person, you have to have ammo_.'

Another voice in my head answered: '_Bullets don't phase him, moron_.'

'_Au contraire; they stun him long enough to get away_.'

'_Those Red Pyramid things are sure to show up here too. Let me be _ready.'

I snapped out of thought and put the shotgun in the bag. Taking the pipe from my belt loop, I walked forward. There was a hall to my left, with a door on the left and two on the right, and one at the end. I took the door on the left. I saw nothing right away, but soon I spied a clip for the handgun. I grabbed it eagerly and threw it in the bag. There was a desk and a computer. I approached the desk cautiously, and found a piece of paper. It was written hastily, and in extreme panic, it seemed: _'If any of you police officers read this, the guy's name is Ralph Derecks. He's in cahoots with that one killer . . . Walter Sullivan. The Numbers on the bodies mean (for example, 15121) 15 out of 21. He plans to kill 21 people. Someone has to stop him. I have some access to the outside via my radio, but it's not much. I've been investigating Sullivan a while, and — shit, he's getting in. I have to go face fate. Good—.' _It ended there.

Suddenly the computer shot on, and the Media Player was on. There came a wail, a terrible cry through the screen, and the video came on: a grey form, blurred, rolling around. The wail changed to 'I'm always watching you!' I stepped back and felt - no, _heard _- my heartbeat. Suddenly it stopped. The head looked straight in my direction. I froze, eyes bulging, panting. 'Save me!' it screamed suddenly, and the image fluxated from side to side.

I ran to it and unplugged it. Nothing. It kept playing. 'Save me! Save me!' The voice was steadily getting deeper as it chanted these words. Again it froze. The image didn't blur anymore: I stared into the face of a bald man with blackened eyes. They widened, and he wailed for the last time: '_I'm always watching you!_' The screen turned red, and strange symbols fluxated around it. Terrified, I did the only thing I could think of. I pulled the pistol out and fired at the screen. It blacked out, but I didn't stop. Five rounds were spent, but my finger wouldn't stop. I slid down and kept trying to fire.

Then my muscles dropped. I lay prostrate on the ground, sobbing, panting, and shaking with something way beyond fear. Terror? Horror? No, they aren't enough. I couldn't move. I couldn't speak; Hell, I couldn't _think_. I just shook and sobbed, curled in a ball. I felt so helpless and weak, but I didn't care.

Suddenly the door burst open, and I stopped. A new fear, not as strong but more potent, gripped me. I aimed my empty pistol at the door. But 'Ralph' wasn't there. Instead, it was a construction worker with an axe. He looked at me with wonder, and I dropped the gun. I stood shakily, trying to collect my utterly destroyed psyche.

He looked at me and smiled relief. 'Thank God,' he said. 'Another human being.'

'Yeah,' I breathed, but I was both glad and not glad. Glad to see him, glad for the comfort of another human. Not glad to have to watch this guy die. Not glad to have my hopes ripped away as soon as they come.

He held out his hand. I grabbed my pistol and shook his hand. Afterwards I put a clip in it and exited the room.

'If it isn't too much to ask, what happened in there?' he said.

'You wouldn't believe me if I told you,' I said.

'Try me,' he said, gesturing around him. Normally I would have laughed, but not now.

'My name's David,' I said.

'Ben,' he said.

'Ben,' I echoed. This was a doughty guy, with a big axe and large muscles. I could see he'd been through some serious fighting before he found me.

The monsters were seemingly everwhere in here. I could hear them, moans, screams, and banging objects. I didn't want to know what this kind was. I had the feeling that it wasn't just one type; I heard lizards, sewer monsters, demon children, and things that sounded like apes.

Too little ammo. Ten bullets to suffice in a monster filled world? Looked like I'd be seeing more melee action than I preferred. I looked up to see Ben gone. He was simply gone. I don't think I ever had lost so much hope as I did then. Ben was gone already; but he actually had a place to go. It appeared he'd went down a hallway, to my left. But why did he run?

I soon discovered when I looked to my right. The Red Pyramid was right there. I aimed my gun and pumped two rounds before the thing swung its blade. It connected solidly with my stomach, but it was sideways, and thus only dealt clubbing damage. I felt myself thrown backwards. I slid, and scowled. Anger flared up, and this thing was pissing me off. I sat up and fired eight rounds into the Pyramid's legs. It howled, and ran away. I looked at my pistol, and screamed a curse. So much for the eight bullets.

Where to now?

I grabbed my pipe and ran down the hallway Ben had gone down. Suddenly I was rushed by a blur to my left, and felt my sharp pain in my left shoulder. Naturally I recoiled, and smashed into the wall to my right. My eyes were blurry, but I caught a glimpse of a sewer monster. Standing, I stumbled a little, but caught my balance. Gripping the pipe in two hands, I strafed left and right, waiting for the thing to strike.

Sure enough, it did. And this was what I wanted. I was strafing to my left, and it naturally attacked the spot I was going to be when it landed; so I leapt right, and when the thing landed, I swung the pipe viciously into its spine. It howled sharply, but I knew that to relent was to die; so I hammered its back continually. Suddenly I heard it snap, and the thing wailed. I brought my heel viciously down on the thing's skull. The bone cracked sickly, and pus streamed out, yellow and green. It moved no more.

I stood and, sore and tired, moved on down the hallway.


	11. Chapter 11: Two Spears

Chapter 11: Two Spears

I walked down another hallway, slightly longer, and more decrepit. There were water stains adorning the wall, and a putrid smell enveloped me as I walked down it. I hesitated, and looked around. Nothing – just a corpse and water stains. I turned back when I heard a hiss. I swung back to see a large smear of blood on the wall. Strings of black goo stretched from it, and a pair of arms came forth. Then a head: the skin was deathly pale, and clad in a sweater that was tarnished and bloodied. The hiss came again, followed by a moan, and then I began to feel a headache. The Ghost moaned loudly and fell from the wall, yet did not land. It hovered up, and looked at me. I silently weighed my chances.

I turned and hauled ass.

The Ghost was instantly after me, floating with no physical boundaries. The headache's pain was searing, and I found my vision blurred. I frantically tried to collect myself. Unfortunately, I looked up to find myself utterly doomed. I was pretty much less than a foot from the wall. As I sailed into the painfully hard surface, I screamed, and fell back with no resistance. My mind was racing. I was shit out of luck now: the damned Ghost was but a metre from me. I reached in the bag for something to throw, something to bide me time, but my hand closed on something else.

Through the agony and torment, my hand found Blake's double-barrel.

Not thinking clearly, I pulled it out and cocked both the hammers. The Ghost smiled wickedly, but suddenly stopped. It looked down the barrel, and moaned. It was a 'Damnit, you win this time' moan. My finger firmly rested on both triggers.

'Say cheese, bitch.' With one, clumsy movement of a mere finger, the barrels erupted with a brilliant flash, firing as one. The buckshot tore into the Ghost's face, and the recoil sent me reeling backwards into the wall. My head hit the surface forcefully, which was hell for my headache. The Ghost roared and fell, not moving. I knew it wasn't dead though. I was betting that it wouldn't be getting up today.

So I stood, and caught my breath. Snapping the barrel down, I inserted two shells and closed it. I then grabbed the pipe and put the shotgun in the bag, at the top so it was easily accessible. Slinging the bag back up, I ran down an adjacent hallway. There I found a lot of sheets, wood, and ladders. The roof was partially destroyed, or partially constructed. I went to the scene, and there was a key on one of the stepladders. A tag was on it: _emergency exit_.

Did I hope for a way out? No, I didn't. I'd try it, but I was beginning to get used to disappointment. If it led out, well that's fine. If it didn't, I hadn't had my hopes up. In fact, I was hoping it didn't lead out a little. I still had to know what was going on. I had to know who exactly Ralph Derecks was; I had to know what the placards meant; I had to find out how _any_ of this was even possible. Because, truly, it wasn't.

I was brought out of this instrospect by an object in the corner of my eye; there was a hammer laying on a tarp. I didn't think before I picked it up. It was balanced, and I practiced swinging it. The handle was green, and the head was somewhat spiked. But the tail: the tail was viciously long and sharp. I put the pipe away, and thrust the hammer into the bag. Two melee weapons. I was giddy with excitement.

And then another thought formed in my hand: I had undergone a radical transformation. I'd barely ever been in a fight before now, but look at me now: tarnished with blood, sweaty, greasy, _savage _looking, and armed with a pipe, hammer, pistol, and shotgun. What _happened_? Under normal circumstances, I'm a somewhat passive guy, and I usually try to look remotely hygenic.

_But you forget. These are NOT normal circumstances. You'd be shit crazy not to be the way you are. You'd be dead if you hadn't unlocked those primal instincts that most people tuck away. Bravo – you're a survivor._

_Yet: at what cost? Your humanity, your docility, and your fucking sanity, that's what._

_Stop thinking, it only brings you down. Just move on; nothing more to do but move on. What was that? Hmm, stomping. Stomping? STOMPING? ARE YOU A MORON! Stop thinking and TURN AROUND!_

I turned around and my heart failed me. I screamed and tore my newfound weapon from the bag on instinct, even though I knew that it wouldn't help me. A hammer against the infamous Pyramid? No, scratch that.

_Two_ Pyramids.

I put the hammer back in and brought out the shotgun. The Pyramids were standing at the hallway, and I leapt over the tarped boards into a small strip of normal ground in the centre. The Pyramids were wielding those spears, those long, bitter spikes. One was bad enough; were these things _normal monsters_? How many?

_Oh, please, just two, I can't take on any more, I don't know if I can handle two. The clock tower was different, it was foggy, and outside. This is the end, this is how my life ends, screw Ralph, his little minions are gonna get me first._

Once again my other voice told me to shut up. I conceded. He then told me to run. I froze in my tracks, but he told me again, more forcefully. The Pyramids were on the tarps, about three metres from me. I groaned a defeated cry, and bolted. The Pyramids cried out, a harsh whisper of nothing. They raised their spear arms, and I was getting closer. I was no track star, but something told me to jump. So, as I was nearing the gap between them (which was only about four feet) I forcefully applied energy to my legs, and sprang from the ground. I then heard the whoosh of the spears as the beasts launched them at me. I was smack in the middle.

But I kept rising.

I felt their spears nick my shirt, and I knew that it was the end. I was gonna get caught on them, and they'd yank me down. But the shirt didn't get caught. I landed forcefully on the ground, and felt myself begin to stumble. I felt a shower of heat on my back, and it burned painfully. Metal grinded on metal. Their spears collided, and erupted in sparks! I was utterly breathless, but I wasn't in the clear. As I fell forward, I reached out and pushed myself up. My legs kept running, and for the first time I noticed a door, metal, right in front of me.

_Oh God, I can't stop!_

I was hurled straight into the door, which gave in. It sprang open, and, as if some grace was watching out for me, it hit the wall, bounced back, and snapped shut. Locked.

I was on my back, utterly miserable, sweating, panting, bruised and broken down. But there was a relief that I found to my left. I'd be damned if it wasn't a magazine for my pistol. I grabbed the gun and jammed the clip in haphazardly. I then flicked the safety on and used my pocket as its holster.

I still had to catch my breath, which wasn't easy. I heard pounding on the door, as if the Pyramids felt that they could pull the same stunt. Just in case, though, I had my shotgun at my side. I grabbed it and aimed it at the door. Cocking both hammers, and waited. I then noticed that there was a hole beside me. A hole that lead to my house. But I had to wait and see if those Pyramids were gonna get in. I didn't want to come back to their spears in my heart.

There came their inhuman moan through the door, and they lumbered away. I fell back and panted, recovering my lost breath. I stood, and gathered my things. Never more delighted to, I climbed through the hole,

– –

I went to my living room and found another one of those notes on my TV. I plucked it off and sat down to read it. It was stapled to another, and there was a relatively heavy envelope on the back. I opened the envelope first: a handgun magazine. I was beginning to like this Thomas. Stuffing it in my pocket, I read the note.

_What is going on, I can't begin to fathom. There's that hole, leading out to those weird worlds, crawling with monsters. When I went through it initially, I was wielding a broom. After an encounter with those lizards, I began to lose hope. One bit the head of my broom off! Weaponless, I crushed its skull with my foot and ran._

_Then I found a pistol in the hand of a dead man, though he was faceless and featureless. It was creepy, but I didn't question it. I found a magazine, then another, in some safe that had been busted against a wall. It was violently defaced._

_Walking down some long pathway, I found a weird, floating man with a sombrero on. I would have laughed any other time, but he was so . . . pitiful. His eyes were vacant, his face twisted in pain, and his body charred. I couldn't guess what happened to him, but don't fancy it pleasant._

The page ended there, so I flipped to the next.

_I met a guy named Clark, a raving lunatic. He didn't stop talking, so I just left him alone. But, about ten minutes later, I found him impaled on a spear. Then some weird, Pyramid Head thing came and ripped it out. I couldn't bring myself to shoot the thing, but it had not a second thought of skewering me. He almost had me when I got the nerve to shoot: I wasted an entire magazine on his torso, and he wailed as if betrayed. When it left, everything went black._

_Then I heard a radio broadcast when I woke up in my bed. It said: 'Thirty-six year old Clark Milligan was discovered in the Reynolds-Ambol company office building, with a gaping hole pierced right through his heart. Police found the numbers 12121 carved in his thigh, and are currently connecting it to Ralph Derecks, who was caught mimicking the Walter Sullivan murders three years ago.'_

_Now, I think it's time I tell you what I know about Ralph Derecks and Walter Sullivan. They–_

I sighed. The paper ended there. Now the suspence was so high, I felt I had to know. But it'd have to wait. There was a guy named Ben that needed saved.

_I forgot Ben, _I thought, _. . . I forgot Ben! He left ME, but still, why did I forget? I am bloody awful at playing hero; that's three – make it four, now – people who've died because I was too incompetent to save them._

_No, that's not true. _The other voice was back._ I couldn't do a thing. Shaun was a loner, and didn't want to be helped; Monica, well, she was psycho, and Arrogant – I feel she deserved what she got. Blake though: Blake was the only time I screwed up. And now Ben. But that's over now. No more horsing around. I swear, I SWEAR, that if I can just have one more chance, I'll make it right. If there's another, they're not gonna die._

_Five is a magic number. Maybe you're next?_

_If so, then I swear that I'm going down in a blaze of glory._

I went back to the hole, and climbed through. Ralph was gonna earn the next victim. He had four so far, but I was pretty sure that I was gonna score a point next time. If, that is, there was a fifth victim.


	12. Chapter 12: Rage

Chapter 12: Rage

Pyramid Head did not impale me on its spear. Instead, there were moans of the monsters emanating from every direction. Wanting to conserve ammunition, I took out the hammer. As I said before, it was green handled, but it was not a work hammer. Oh no.

This was a _war_ hammer.

The green handle was long, the tail a vicious spike, and the head covered in tiny spikes. It was an emergency hammer, as the official term goes, but it was a war hammer now. And those monsters were going to feel its wrath.

I opened the door that I had not come through, the one to my left. Inside there was a lizard, which looked up at me and growled. A grin crept upon my lips; I raised the hammer high, and brought it down, tail-first. It bore into the lizard's skull, and the force caved its skull in while the spike skewered its brain. When I ripped the hammer out, the thing was dead. There was one disadvantage to this weapon, compared to the pipe or the plank.

It was pretty heavy.

_Heavy duty_, my mind told me.

_Your puns suck._

I stepped over the corpse of the butchered lizard, and continued down a small hallway. It was long, though, and about halfway, I heard the closing of a door. I turned to see one Red Pyramid. My new confidence with the weapon was shattered. All I heard was my heart beating and the Pyramid's footsteps as he speed-walked after me. Not an idiot, I turned and bolted down the hallway, but turning I saw the Pyramid was gaining on me. Adrenaline and mania replaced energy and reason. My legs were sailing as fast as I'd ever ran before, but it wasn't fast enough.

I spun back just as the spear was launched at me. I just barely managed to dodge it, and, before I knew what I was doing, I lowered the hammer and swung it upward, catching his helmet. He dropped the spear and brought his hands up to his helmet, which my hammer was ripping off. He was holding it on, but my weapon's force was too much for his strength, and he fell back as the helmet swung up. It stayed on, but Pyramid Head was on his back, and flailing, trying to get up.

I almost grinned, but I was still in panic. Running like a stallion, I came to another door, that led to a stairway, which ran straight down. I slammed the door behind me and turned my flashlight on, for the place was pitch black. I went two at a time, and came to a grotesquely eroded floor, metal, and smelling of burning iron. I walked down a little before it turned left, and I broke into a small jog.

Until I heard the scream.

It was a man's, strong, and desperate, as if he was being lowered into lava, or on a conveyor belt into a whirring blade. The scream of a man desperately trying to break free of some bond, but failing, and yet keeping his dignity. It's hard to explain, but I heard it.

I broke into a run, and then a sprint, and then I was stopped. A sewer monster, one of those grey things, was holding a plank. It looked at me and smiled a wicked smile, before wailing and swinging the weapon. I was too astounded to dodge the blow. It was downward, and it hit me in my shoulder. It smarted, much like the teacher's metrestick, but the plank was thicker.

I lifted the hammer, and brought it down treacherously hard on the thing's skull. Its back bent forward, and the head ripped off as the body fell on its stomach. Stepping on it, I continued down the hall. This hallway was long! The scream came again, but was drowned out into a muffled cry. I came to a door, a door with a placard in it.

Reluctantly I pulled it out and observed it. Upon it was written _Rage_, and the picture was of a man holding a club, his hair unkempt, his back bent, and a wild look on his face. It was unusually detailed for a placard.

Not sure if I wanted to enter this room, I opened the door before I could decide against it. But I don't think I could have been prepared for Ben's death. He was cemented into the floor, his shape clearly visible, his mouth open to scream and his eyes closed. His fists were clenched tightly at his sides, and _19121_ was carved in the cement.

_19121 . . . 19/21 . . . one more shot, maybe._

I fell to my knees and looked at the man as the world faded. Noone deserved to die like this. It was clear he suffocated, as there was no other evidence of his death. I spied the axe nearby, but I couldn't reach it in time. The world went black.

– –

I was not _eager_, but I was ready to go through the hole again. Watching people die wasn't pleasurable; it was just, I needed to keep myself occupied. I sound like a terrible person, I know, but it's the truth.

I walked to my cofee table in the living room and began to eat, when the radio turned on. I nearly choked on my potato chip when it suddenly blasted out noise.

'Earlier today, the mutilated corpse of Monica Judillin, a teacher at Midwich Elementary school, was found in a strange complex of what appeared to be _torture_ chambers under the school. Her body, limbs and organs and everything, was found dismembered and floating in a "Chamber" filled with water. The numbers _17121_ were carved into her forehead. Midwich Elementary is currently under investigation.

'And on a similiar note, at Ashfield Clocktower, the body of a police officer named Blake Thurle was found beaten, shot, and dropped off the clock face, which is a fall of about seventy feet. There were signs of a severe struggle, as well as a strange type of blood present on his shirt. The numbers–' The reporter's voice faltered. '–_18121_ were carved on his body. More details to follow; back to you, Chuck–' The radio cut out.

I stood and tried to turn the radio on again, but nothing. I then noticed a memo on the radio. It was written by my good friend Thomas. Its contents, however, were not too warm or inviting. I began to read it.

'_I found the Cult's bible, and there was a small note inside. I started to compile a bunch of notes, basically a list of all the victims that Ralph intends to kill. My blood runs cold, and fear has enveloped my body. I'm so terrified, I can't think. My only duty is to write. It's all I can do. Please, read this well:_

_Ken Starke - Heart_

_Mike Starke- Heart_

_Kevin Delm - Heart_

_Laura Fathim - Heart_

_Frederick Ditemik - Heart_

_Nathan Geldrid - Brain_

_Danial Fathim - Brain_

_Miguel Irvirias - Brain_

_Sarah Less - Brain_

_Xander Novak - Brain_

_Clark Milligan - Anguish_

_Levi Weathers - Heresy_

_Vincent Lowe - Darkness_

_Richard Dasp - Treachery_

_Thomas Iridan - Despair_

_Shaun Miller - Solitude_

_Monica Judillin - Arrogance_

_Blake Thurle - Order_

_Ben —– - Rage_

_Emily Callel - Mother Reborn_

_David Willand - (Reciever of) Wisdom_.' The note was torn off there.

My heart failed me. I had to read it again, and then I counted down the list. Emily Callel, among my best friends, was the twentieth. And I was the last one, the twenty-first, the Receiver of Wisdom. And the note ended there. Why had he left me this . . . saddening note? No, saddening isn't right – this put me in downright despair. There was a hastily scribbled note on the back:

_The Hearts represent the essence of being; the Brains represent the human search for knowledge. The third sign, Clark through myself, represent the favoured emotions of the Cursed Mother. Shaun through Ben represents the dominant four states of the human mind, through the Mother's perspective. The Mother Reborn is just that: the body which the Mother will be born into the physical world with. And Wisdom is hard to explain. The Mother lays underneath THIS house. In the Heart of Ralph's world, she is gaining strength. Wisdom is the resident of the house, before it is supercharged with the Mother's life force, and acts as a birthing point. Once Wisdom dies, the Mother can be born._ There was more, but it was with the ripped off part.

Part of me wanted to fall down, just wait for death to overcome me. I couldn't win. If I stayed here, I'd die. It was then that I felt truly trapped, trapped and with no hope for escape.

I wanted to scream, but I didn't, because if I screamed, I'd laugh at my hopelessness, and if I laughed, I'd cry. And I couldn't afford to cry. Because I'd cry in despair, and would never stop. So, all I could do was stand.

_You have to get those chains off. If you fancy your life, you WILL get those chains off. Shoot them, crush them, GNAW them, I don't care, just get out of here!_

I leapt forward and reared the hammer back, letting loose into the chains. The hammer hit, but was repelled, and in a burst of light and heat I was thrown onto my back. I leapt up and pummeled the door, frantically trying to get out. I screamed, screamed until I had no air in my lungs, but I kept trying, and kept pounding the door. Exhausted, and with no possible escape, I fell to my knees.

_How could someone chain them up? How could they do that while I slept? They're in the house, someone chained them up from inside the house; Ralph is in here. Ralph is in here . . . Ralph is IN HERE._

_Pistol._

My hand shot to the firearm, and I stood up, back to the door, scanning the place. It was then that I noticed that the sun was setting. Soon the house would be dark.

I thought of Emily. She was in way deeper than I was, unarmed, and who-knows-where, with monsters craving to consume her. For any ounce of love I bore her, I had to get my shit together. If I was terrified, she had to be going insane. Ralph wasn't in the house; Ralph was in the hole, chasing her down. Grimacing, I ran to the hole and climbed through. It seemed darker, more ominous, and oppressive.

I was up to the rim with fear, but forced it down, repressed it. If I failed this time, the world was screwed.


	13. Chapter 13: Ghost Town

Chapter 13: Ghost Town

_My head hurts._

I woke up on two different surfaces. My arms were bent at my sides, and I was laying on my stomach; my face was on concrete, while my torso was on a wire mesh. All I could hear was the sound of a generator, that menacing growl, and it spurred me into standing up. Echoes of a headache panged in my temple. Holding my head, I heard a ringing in my ears. It passed soon, but the headache felt like the ones I got when ghosts were around.

I was on a street, with utter darkness around me. I flicked the flashlight on and gripped the hammer tightly in my left hand. There were no monsters that I could see, but the generator noise made it hard to hear for them. Sighing, I took a few steps forward to see that there was no ground in front of me. It was broken off, with a pitch black abyss stretching endlessly from the spot I was standing from. Gripping the hammer with both hands, neck in my left, handle in my right, I took a few steps back and turned away.

Jogging a little to my left, I came to a bloodstained sidewalk. There were dilapidated buildings to my left, each of them with a broken lock. I smashed them with the hammer, but they were stout and didn't break. At the end of the street there was a large, wire fence, with barbed wire lacing every link. Not about to do anything stupid, I checked the right side of the street. On one of the destroyed houses' porch I found a handgun magazine. I mentally noted that I had three full clips of bullets, but refused to use the gun. I used it up too quickly.

Right next to the wire fence was a rectangular building with a door that worked. Cautiously I entered. Immediately I found myself in a hallway with derelict walls, and a small case of trophies. Not caring for any of them, I just passed them by. There were two doors at the end: one on the left wall, and one straight in front of me. I tried the left door – nothing. The door straight ahead of me opened into a storage area.

There were two shelves on the right and left side of the room, with a door straight ahead. I looked on the shelves and found a medical kit with a splint, a roll of bandages, disinfectant, burn medication, vitamins and painkillers. Realising that my luck wouldn't keep up forever, I stowed it away in my bag, and resumed scouring the shelves. I found a box of shotgun shells, and immediately shoved them, six, in my shirt pocket. Thrusting the hammer into my bag, I took out the shotgun and cocked both barrels.

I checked the rest of the shelves, and found nothing. Through the door I came into another hallway. I heard a monster over the abominable generator noise, and aimed the shotgun as I walked. At last I came unto the beast, a new type of monster. This thing was tall, about as tall as me, and with a weapon. It held in its right hand, dragging it as walked, a golf club (a 5-Iron). Its legs were pale red, the red of rust, but its torso was crimson. Its head was covered in pus and blood, its face a slur of bulges and crevices. It hunched _backwards_, and made a gurgling noise, a sickly sound of when a person with phlegm filled lungs takes a deep breath.

So awestruck was I with its grotesque appearance that I barely had time to duck an exaggerated swing to my head. As it recovered, I charged for it and shoulder-rammed it. Gurgling faster, it stumbled back but didn't fall. Stepping back, I brought the shotgun to its head level and pulled the right-barrel's trigger. It erupted with buckshot, and the force _ripped_ the pus-swells open, leaking yellow-white gel all over the floor, and blowing the creature off its feet and onto its back. I expected it to twitch in agony, but it didn't. That thing was _dead_, head flayed and strewn upon the walls and floor.

Reaching down slowly, I slipped the golf club out of its hand. I swung it around and discovered it was a relatively easy weapon. Most of the weight was in the head, but not so much as the hammer. Less damaging, but faster. I put it in the bag.

Sprinting down the hallway, I came to another door. It opened to what seemed to be a cashier's desk, with sporting merchandise on the shelves, and a hole on the left-most wall. I found two more golf clubs – a 7-Iron and a driver – on one shelf; the rest were ransacked, as well as hockey sticks and baseball bats, save one bat. I lifted it and swung it around a little – it wasn't heavy, but didn't seem to carry much force, either. I left it.

There was a handgun magazine on the counter, and on the candy rack there were energy bars and some Big Red. I lifted the Big Red and slipped a piece into my mouth as I pocketed one pack and threw the others into the bag (which was getting burdensome). I also grabbed the energy bars.

Something intrigued me about the register, so I opened it up to find a pack of shells for my double-barrel. I stuffed the shells in the remaining room in my left breast pocket; but then I spied what was under the box.

A key, with 'Gun Rack' labelled on it. Lifting my head, I saw the rack clearly, but my heart dropped once more: all the guns had their barrels horribly twisted upward. I hauled ass to them still, and unlocked the case to find two handgun magazines, six _more_ shotgun shells, and a blue box of rifle shells. They were compatible with my old rifle, locked in my basement.

_The rifle's out of access, don't bother picking those up._

_But, why would they be here?_

_Because it's a gun rack, and it's compatible with the above rifles._

_Well, take them and try to bust down the basement door, though we KNOW it won't work. _

_I could have sworn that I put the basement key on the dresser._

_No, you were mailing it to the department store to have a spare made. It's in your –_

'No . . .'

– _mailbox._

I screamed in desperation and slammed my fist against the bullet-proof glass. Again and again I slammed it, sinking lower and lower into despair. If I could get to the basement, I had a coffer full of shells; I'd be a god in here, nothing would stop me, not even that Ralph.

_Who's to say that Ralph didn't mutate your rifle?_

_No, not Champion. If that fucker toyed with Champion, I'll blast his goddamn head off with this shotgun._

_Like you won't anyway . . . why care about 'Champion', you haven't even fired the damn thing._

It's true. Ashfield had a bad crime surge, a lot of robberies, murders, stuff like that. I bought Champion, my rifle, at the local gun shop ('Bob's Bullets and Boomsticks) during the surge and kept it in my room, by my bed, but then the scare ended, and I stowed the rifle in my basement. That was a year ago.

Survival instincts won over, and I grabbed the rifle shells and threw them into the bag. Straining to lift such a heavy weight, I continued on with my endeavor to save Emily.

I exited the front door to find two more of those hunched things waiting for me. One had a plank, and one had a hockey stick. Moaning in unison, they swung their weapons. I didn't have any time to think, only a split second to react. And my reaction was not particularily aimed for defence so much as offence. I kicked the left-most one in the balls as forcefully as I could, and it slackened its swing. The right-most one, the hockey stick wielder, swung its weapon into the back of my neck, and the pain wasn't nearly overwhelming.

But, at that moment, the plank chose to hit my collarbone. And that, my friend, was _excruciating_. I screamed wildly and raised the shotgun to the left fiend's head, pulling both triggers. The right-side clicked, but the left barrel blasted the monster's skull into fragments and its brain matter into a sludge.

The right one avenged its fallen comrade, but it had a poor choice of weaponry. It hit me in the hip as hard as it could, but the stick merely stung. I still cried out, sore from the trial of the other demon, and swung around with a backhand to the creature's swollen ball of a face. It staggered back, and I wasted no time in snapping the shotgun barrels down, sliding two shells in, and snapping it closed. It was coming forward once more when I loosed a round of buckshot into its face from the right barrel.

Its head blew into fragments, showering the street with blood and bone. The corpse fell lifeless to the ground, writhing in its mindless desperation. I didn't pity it, if you were wondering; I had no pity for anything here. Except the people.

It was then that I recognised the store: it was Richards and Lathern Sporting Goods. It was on my street. I looked to the right, and walked until I came to a sight I never thought I'd see. It was my house from the outside, looking normal, no blemish of rust or blood to be seen. I peered through the window, however, to see a man in a black jacket, black pants, black shoes, and gangly brown hair – he was looking straight in my direction. It wasn't long before I realised it was a reflection.

Ralph, I deemed, was behind me.

Cocking the left barrel, I spun around and aimed the shotgun. There was nothing there, just darkness. But inside the house I could see a note on the table. I tried the front door, and sure enough, it didn't open. I found that strange, but figured that it was just a trick from Ralph. Show me my own home, and don't let me in.

I leapt down to the mailbox and opened it. There was a key inside.

_. . . can't be . . ._

I darted to the hole in the Sporting Goods shop, and climbed through eagerly.

– –

I raced from the bedroom to the coffee table to read the note that Thomas obviously left me:

_But, the Givers and Receivers of Wisdom are not weaponless. There are requirements in each ceremony, special weapons against the Mother's forces: the accurately dubbed 'Holy Candle', the enigmatic 'Silver Bullets', and the mysterious 'Sword of Obedience'. In the Cult's bible describing the ceremony, the Holy Candles (called by the Cult 'Cursed Candles') release holy energy in an aura, dispelling all ghosts and hauntings around them. They are fairly common, and collecting them is essential._

_The Swords are not weapons, though; they are essentially 'traps': once you down a ghost, stab the sword in and pin it to the ground forever! As a requirement, there are five swords. I only found one, however. I used it to down Clark Milligan, along with a Silver Bullet - speaking of, Silver Bullets are rounds that instantly bring a ghost down. I can not stress how useful they can be. Keep an eye out for them, as they are important._

Now that the note was done with, I raced to the basement door and slid the key in. Turning it, I heard the click and turned the doorknob.

It slid open creakily.


	14. Chapter 14: Champion

Chapter 14: Champion

_One day I feel I'm on top of the world_

_and the next it's falling in on me._

_I can get back on,_

_I can get back on._

_One day I feel I'm ahead of the wheel_

_and the next it's rolling over me._

_I can get back on,_

_I can get back on. –Far Cry, Rush_

My flashlight's beam shot out into the pitch-black room, illuminating the stairs, but leaving everything else in darkness. There was an aura about this place, an aura I can only describe as malice. Cautiously I stepped on the first stair, the creak of the wood the only sound in the hole house aside from my heartbeat.

Second stair, third stair, fourth stair – I continued one at a time until I reached the bottom. The bottom of the basement was solid concrete, and every time I took a step, a loud click resonated through the room. The aura just got stronger with every step forward.

Grabbing it in my left hand, I examined all around with the pocket flashlight, scanning for any irregularities. There was naught that was unusual; but from my position I could see Champion, laying on the table with its coffer full of shells. I no longer took it slow; I jogged to the gun and found it in mint condition, aside from some dust and grime on the barrel.

It was sleek, the carbon-blue steel shining like holy armour in some fantasy story; the wood glistened, smooth and with the image of benevolance, yet grim and with signs of time's decay; and the weight was light – a cruel, cold weapon of vicious death, so easily carried.

_Time to see how strong you are,_ I thought as I opened the coffer of ammunition.

Empty.

The whole world halted for a minute. It must have looked ridiculous, a grown man with his jaw to the floor, arm suspended in the air above a dusty coffer, and with a duffel bag full of weapons (plus a pistol in his back pocket). I felt all the despair inside me swelling, rising, on the verge of eruption.

_Don't do it._

I was shaking, my eyes tightly shut as I repressed the emotions.

_No . . . _

'_NO_!' I screamed, and fell to my knees, shaking furiously and pounding the ground with my fist. 'No! No! No! Damnit!'

The raw emotion began as hot fury and surged into cold wrath. I looked around, knowing he couldn't hear me but still daring to anyways.

'What . . . what do you want from me, you sick bastard?'

No answer. Not that I was expecting some voice to suddenly whisper 'pat your head and rub your tummy', but I thought maybe some piece of paper would suddenly get blown in front of me, or something subtle. But there was nothing.

I had to get it together, and I knew it. I stood quietly, regaining my composure and breathing deeply. Every moment lost, Emily nears death, if she hadn't arrived already. I had to book it. Not only because she was close to me, but because if she died, yours truly was next.

I inhaled and blinked, and then examined Champion. Four rounds per magazine, and that box of ammunition left me with a total of –

I calculated it in my head.

'Four times three is twelve, plus four is sixteen. Sixteen shells. Great.'

_Don't worry. Now you got something that'll phase that Pyramid._

That thought right there set off a series of lightbulbs that lead to the conclusion: _This rifle could blast that bastard back to the Hell he came from . . ._ _worth it._

I had to try it out, though, as my gauging of the power may be wrong. It had a sling to go over the shoulder, and a small satchel to go on the waste, where I kept all the bullets; I felt absolutely awesome, as if I was, say, the Punisher, or the Terminator. That feeling was dashed as I discovered how dark it truly was in my house. I turned all the lights on, and decided to leave them on when I went through the hole again.

I also decided to drop some weaponry, because my muscles were exhausted, and only need kept me from throwing myself on the ground and sleeping. I dropped the pipe, the golf clubs, and some good. I then went into my bathroom and took a wiz. Doing so I managed to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror: it wasn't pretty. My hair was filthy, glistening with oil and small patches were flaky with dried blood. My facial hair was about a centemetre long, and I had a slight breakout on my forehead, and my face had small blood splatters – sweat beads were still present in various spaces.

My crimson work shirt concealed the blood from my countless foes, and only contained a few rips or weakened areas. My jeans were tattered and dirty, mainly from under the school. My boots had blood on them from kicking the lizards and such.

The shirt could stay, the boots too, but the jeans had to go and the hair had to be washed. I was about to jump in the shower when I remembered about Emily.

_Get motivated, Dave, now. You can shower once you save Emily._

I took a piece of toilet paper and scraped it against my face, and threw the grey, damp paper in the trash. Taking a breath, I went to the laundry room and climbed in the hole.

– –

Coming out in the sporting goods shop, I ran through the entrance, and stood there, thinking about what to do.

_If this is Ashfield . . . your house is here . . . maybe Emma's is here? Emma lives to the left, right, left . . . Rowl Street. Go!_

I turned left and took off, sprinting as fast as I could. If she was in her house, I might have a chance of making it to her in time. I was closing in on Truman Street – and the road was gone. It was _obliterated_, completely destroyed. I could see clearly a street lamp on Rowl Street, and Truman Street was only obliterated on my side. Rowl Street was connected to Truman, but the left side was gone and the right side was not. I'd have to get to Truman Street's right side to get on Rowl.

I looked around frantically, desperate for some to reach her house. There was a large, dilapidated rectangular building, brown, that I thought I saw run onto the remainder of Truman Street. There was an iron door, worn and rusted, that led inside. I tried the knob – rusted shut. Scowling, I stepped back, and with a primal yell I charged it, bringing my foot up and ramming the door full speed. It ripped off its hinges and fell on the floor with a loud thud. Inside was a hallway, also decayed.

I heard the familiar moans of the weird, rust-coloured monsters that carried weapons. I decided now was the perfect time to try out my rifle; I aimed, and waited. After a few moments, the monstrosity shuffled up and screamed – it broke into a faster shuffle, and was in my sights.

Click.

I looked at the rifle in horror, my mind racing with possibilities as to why it didn't fire. Safety? No safety. Jammed? Then I noticed the problem and almost smacked myself.

_Cock it._

I cocked the rifle forcefully and aimed once more at the beast's head; it seemed to perceive its impending doom, for it screamed and reared back to swing. I pulled the trigger.

And it most definitely fired.

The pin propelled the shell, and the shell shot through the barrel at the speed of sound, gaining momentum as it sailed through the dysphoric air, drilling through the monster's skull, scrambling its brains, shattering its skull as it exited, and continuing down a bloody path to who-knows-where. I was thrust back, barely keeping my footing as the rifle sailed backwards, along with my neck – I had enough sense to keep my face jammed against the gun so it wouldn't sail up and smack me. Smiling broadly, I cast a gaze to the thing. The beast was _dead,_ more dead than Michael Jackson's career.

Fifteen shells.

I darted forward down the hallway and found another hole from Champion in the wooden door. It didn't open either, and it was stuck fast. So I did the one thing I could think to do: I got the hammer and split the door down the middle. Climbing through I found something I was expecting in my subconscious.

One of the Pyramids.

It was wielding a spear, and immediately started moving towards me in that slow yet powerful walk. Grinning widely, I lifted Champion to eye-level, aiming it at where I estimated his head to be. Cocking it, I fingered the trigger. The Red Pyramid stopped, and looked at me with (from what I could tell) horror.

'End of the line,' I smirked, and pulled the trigger. Through the cloud of smoke at the end of the barrel, I saw a gaping hole in the thing's helmet, and it was shrieking. I walked forward, cocking as I aimed it again.

Another blast I dealt, adjacent to the other hole. It shrieked again, and turned to flee. I laughed hysterically, and let it go. I only had thirteen shells now, but that was well worth it. One more shell in the gun before I had to reload.

There was a door straight ahead, which the Red Pyramid had gone through, and a door to my left, leading to Truman Street (I presumed). I ran to it and threw it open. I heard a high-pitched, womanly scream. Adrenaline coursing, I darted down Truman and turned down Rowl Street.


	15. Chapter 15: Hope Rekindled

Chapter 15: Hope Rekindled

I darted down Rowl Street, monsters placed at random points; for once, I had no thoughts of fighting them. I knew where Emily's house was. I counted houses, knowing Emily's was the seventh down on the left side.

_One . . . two . . ._

Those armed monsters were spread widely out, and I easily dodged them, though one's baseball bat came dangerously close to my head. I drew my pistol and shot one that was right in front of me, in the head. It went down without a sound.

_Three . . . four . . ._

My breaths came in quick gasps, my legs were pumping like pistons forward and inward. Never had I felt more determined, never had I ever felt such desperation. I don't know if I felt fear, but I'm sure I felt something that was overtly negative.

_Five . . . six . . ._

There came a scream, and a wicked laugh. Adrenaline, already coursing through my veins, pumped faster, and I was sure that, with such pressure, stress, and activity, my heart was gonna fail. I spotted Emily's house: a blue, two story with a large window (with blinds, of course) in front. There was a light on.

I swirved up the stairs, already breathless but not taking the time to rest, not for a second. I didn't have enough energy to stop when I came to the door, and I hit the wooden door painfully. For that split second I took a breath, and tried the knob. Locked.

'Emily!' I cried, though it was difficult with my need for oxygen.

'Dave?' came a confused reply, and then another scream, with a frantic 'Help!'

I twisted the knob back and forth, hoping the lock would give. Every twist increased my desperation, till the dam burst and I screamed.

'Fuck!'

I stepped back, and dealt an unhumanly strong kick to the door. It swung open, with the lock clearly broken. I charged in, rifle ready in my hands, and then I heard the whistle. My head snapped left.

Ralph, to my left, in Emily's living room, had a small pipe, and had reared up, releasing with a screeching whistle of air. I watched it hopelessly as it collided with Emily's head. A single startled gasp it took from her, and her eyes drifted up and closed. Blood ran down her hair, and she fell to the ground.

'No!' I screamed, raising the rifle. Ralph had been grinning, but did so no more. I aimed straight at his head, and pulled the trigger, unleashing the last of the shells in Champion. His smile turned into a scowl as the shell drilled through him, and he stumbled back, falling over the couch and landing behind it.

I dashed to Emily, and lifted her head gently up, trying to stop the blood in vain. Unwanted tears of anger and despair flowed from my eyes, and I futilely tried to stop it by closing my eyes. Accepting that I couldn't stop crying, I opened again and kissed Emily on the forehead.

'I'm sorry,' I whispered as I laid her down and looked at my hand: there wasn't much blood on it, but it covered the whole hand. I wiped it off with a paper towel in her adjacent kitchen. I leaned against a wall and silently sobbed, sliding down and not moving. The world went black.

– –

_You tried, David, that counts above anything. There was nothing you could do._

_I swore I'd save her. And . . . I failed. I can't protect anyone. I'm useless, bloody useless. Just lay down and die, David._

I opened my eyes to the darkness that was night. Luckily I kept my flashlight on, and when I sat up, it illuminated a small portion of the room. Sitting up I turned the lights on and walked downstairs. I threw myself onto the couch, sitting up and pulling out my pistol. I threw the duffel down, and looked at the handgun.

_Ralph is comin' for you next, Dave. You can end it here, on your own terms, if you have the nerve. But you don't._

_I could kill myself if I wanted to. I'll do it right now._

I slowly put the barrel in my mouth, tucking my tongue in the corner of my mouth to try and avoid tasting the bitterness of the powder, the dullness of the metal. It didn't work. I closed my eyes and willed myself a thousand times to pull the trigger and end it. Amazing how much thought a simple action, like moving my finger back, took. My hand shook, with fear or hopelessness or a mix of both.

_DO IT! DO IT! DO IT! DO IT! DO IT! Pull the damn trigger, NOW!_

I pulled the gun out and threw it on the floor, and it discharged into the wall behind me. That startled me a lot, but I didn't think about it any more than jumping out of the way (it wasn't even facing me, so I did it mainly out of reflex).

And then the radio blazed on.

'And now the news. Earlier today, a young Ms. Emily Callel was foundunconscious in her home in Central Ashfield, with a severe blow to the head. There was no sign of intrusion, and no sign of the attacker. The numbers _20121_ were carved in her right arm, which was found with a minor fracture. Strangely, Ms. Callel was not fatally wounded by the attack, like the previous victims, though she is currently unconscious and shows no sign of waking any time soon. Police believe something warded off the murderer. Ms. Callel is in the Emergency of St. Jerome's, and is in stable condition.'

_Breathe, David, breathe._

'Yes!' I yelled at the top of my lungs, a sense of accomplishment rushing through my whole body. For once, I succeeded! Would there be a new victim? Or would Emily still be in danger? I looked to the door. The chains were still there. I began to wonder if I killed Ralph, but it was clear that I didn't. If I had, I'm sure that the whole thing would have ended. I didn't know if I wanted to go through the hole, so I decided to eat something to calm my nerves – plus, I was starving.

I grabbed a Dr. Pepper from the refrigerator and drank it in a few gulps; then I made myself a turkey sandwich with a load of mustard and downed it quickly. I then grabbed an energy bar and ate it; despite its bad taste, I ate one again. I then grabbed my gear and made for the hole.

To find it sealed up.

My mind stopped entirely for a moment, not processing what I saw. The hole was gone? I was officially trapped in my house? For some reason, I couldn't figure out if I was relieved or in panic. Sure, I didn't have to face demonic creatures and a psychopath, but now I had to face darkness, solitude, and boredom.

I walked out of the laundry room to find a memo on my table. Like always, I picked it up and began to read:

_The hole in the closet . . . it's beginning to give off an aura of hate, anger, and fear. I lit a Holy Candle near it, but nothing worked. Then I thought I saw a face in it, a face of one of the ghosts. I shot a round in, but nothing happened. When it got out, I left and sealed the closet off with a few chairs from the kitchen. Then I used that pentagram I found in the School to seal it up. Only with the pentagram can you unseal it. It's in the basement, in a small, red box. But I think it's best if the hole remains gone. Knowing the truth can drive a man to do crazy things: even if the thing leads out of the house (in a manner of speaking), who's to say it doesn't let the outside in?_

I flew to the coat closet (which is empty) and saw, sure enough, a small indentation in the form of a pentagram. I turned to the basement, and descended down it.

Scouring the basement, I thought I heard moans, strange moans of longing and spite. Almost of envy, and that was the feeling the whole basement was giving off. I found the red box on the table near where I found Champion, and I also found a white candle. I deemed it a Holy Candle, and put it carefully in the bag. Opening the box revealed a small, silver-blue pentagram. I walked back up to the closet and slowly placed the pentagram in the indent.

A scream resonated through the whole house, shaking it like an earthquake, and a shockwave of dark energy seemed to surge through. All the lights turned off, and a wicked, impish laugh came from right in front of me.

The lights turned on. There was a hole again. I knew what Thomas meant, now. The laughing ceased, and all that there was was pure silence. Hesitantly I stuck one hand in, and hoisted myself in. Carefully, I began to crawl once more. Terrified of where this might lead, I found a strange high off the feeling of entering the unknown.

A good high or bad high, I didn't quite know.


	16. Chapter 16: Dungeon

Chapter 16: Dungeon

Heat.

Or rather, the absence of it.

It was the first thing I realised when I awoke on a hard surface, seemingly wooden, and very cold. I sat up and realised, to my horror, that I was on an altar – which, in turn, was inside a church. I got off the altar and grabbed my duffel, sifting through the items inside until I came upon the double-barrel. It still had one shot left in it its left barrel.

The scent of candles filled the air, and they were lit _everywhere_. On the seats, on the table surrounding the altar, on the window-sills, everywhere. I looked forward and saw large double-doors, and presumed them to be the exit. I ran down there, but they were both jammed. Running back I remembered that I hadn't even reloaded the rifle. If the Pyramid would have shown up, I'd have been fucked, for shooting with an empty rifle doesn't do much damage. I pulled out four shells and inserted them shakily into the gun.

To the left of the altar there was a small staircase going down, and to the right there was a normal door. I tried the normal door, but it didn't open. Expecting as much, I sighed and descended the stairs warily. They turned and shifted left, then right, then left again, until they came to a single, red door.. When at last I reached the bottom, my sense of direction was lost entirely. Not caring much, I opened the door and saw something I never, _ever_, deemed possible.

Underneath a church, there was a prison.

Grey walls and steel doors lined along the walls, and it didn't take a genious to figure out where I was. Part of me – no, ninety-nine percent of me – was reluctant to go any further. This area simply struck me, paralyzing me with fear, or something along the lines. But the real kicker was how damn _silent_ it was. The only thing I could hear was my heart, beating wildly and strongly. I took a deep breath and summoned every ounce of courage, every ounce of love I had for Emily, and every ounce of hate I had for Ralph, from even the deepest depths of my soul — I then stepped forward.

As cynical as I was and am, it's a wonder I managed to do so.

I turned left, and tried the cell door: rusted shut. I turned right, and opened the other cell. It was empty, save a bed, and that itself was grimy – black stains adorned the sheets, with a large bloodstain culminating itself upon the pillow. In a small basin on the right-wall there was a clip for the handgun. At this point I tucked the shotgun away and pulled the handgun out; I exited the cell.

I walked to the next door on the left side: I opened it to find a gaping hole, the floor seemingly having caved in. Stepping out, I slammed the door and turned to the right side. It was rusted shut. The next two rows were rusted shut also.

I approached the next row's left door, and peered through the window. Suddenly, the door bounced towards me as a loud crash followed by a growl ensued. Raising the pistol, I stepped back – the creature inside looked through the window, and its appearance was so ghastly that . . . I can't; I just can't say it, it's just too horrible to recall. I was forced to fire a round – the thing hissed, which in turn rose to a howl as the small bullet drilled a hole through its cranium, forcing it onto its back.

Swiftly I turned to the right door, and opened it to find a room utterly varnished in blood, floor, walls, ceiling, basin, bed – _everything_. I shut it abruptly and inhaled quickly; I closed my eyes and exhaled slowly to relax myself. Trying to will myself to open the door was unsuccessful – I could only touch the knob, my hand wouldn't register the twisting-movement. Defeated, I turned to the next row's left door. I opened it and stepped inside, and by all appearances, it was normal.

Slam.

I swung around to find the door had slammed shut by its own. I tried the knob fiercely – the door moved, but appeared to be jammed. My mind raced; terror welled up and consumed my thought, which transformed into sheer panic. I brutally slammed the door with my hip, until at last the door swung open abruptly and I was thrown into the right door. Thankfully, it didn't cave.

Turning around, I tried to forget the previous event and tried the door – rusted. I was nearing the end of the hallway: only two more rows. I opened the next row's left door to find it relatively normal. I proceeded cautiously still, and it seemed needless. There was no bed, no basin, nothing but a stool in the centre. Upon it was a key, grey, and with no design whatsoever – somewhat resembling the prison itself.

Leaving, I walked to the right door. Opening it, I found a rust-coloured monster wielding a pipe. I pumped two rounds into its head, and it fell down writhing. I wasn't about to bother finishing it off, so I closed the door.

I came to the left door on the last row, and found it locked. Sliding the bland key inside, I opened it to find what I came for.

Emily.

I almost dropped the handgun, but didn't – I tucked the metallic death-machine in my back pocket and laid the duffel on the ground as I approached. She was on the bed, in a green blouse, denim shorts, and tennis shoes, with her right-arm in a splint and a bandage on the back of her head (it was visible because her face was turned away from me).

I kneeled to be near her level, and just sat there a moment, admiring her beauty – I felt as if I could sit there, forever, in a moment of relief and happiness. But, if not for mine, but her sake, it was not allowed. As far as I knew, she was still being hunted by Ralph, and I doubted he was far off. Unfortunately I didn't know how to approach the situation. For some reason, I was afraid to touch her. It just seemed . . . creepy.

_Discomfort does NOT outweigh necessity, Dave – WAKE-HER-UP._

Gently and shakily, I reached forward and nudged her a little. She stirred slightly, and I reluctantly nudged a little harder. She opened her eyes slowly, and inhaled sharply. In panic, she looked around the room, and her eyes fell on me. A single, terrified cry escaped her lips, and this was enough to startle me. I jumped back, hands in the air for a sign of peace, breathing quietly yet quickly.

She started to calm down, and laid her legs off the bed, sitting up. The panic left her, and now she was terrified and wary. When she recognised me (which was surprising, as I couldn't recognise myself through the blood and grime) she asked incredulously: 'David?'

Me, being an idiot, waved slightly and said 'Uh, hey.' She was completely astounded, and not in the good way it seemed. I began to think she thought _I_ was her attacker. My mind was too fast for my mouth, and all that came out when I tried to disarm her fears was random noises.

I cleared my throat and said 'It's not what it looks like, Emma.' She shifted uncomfortably, and then asked the golden question:

'What are you doing here?'

My mind went _blank_. Why the _hell _was I here? Being chased by a murder, I knew that, to be sacrificed in some ritual – but the reason _I_ in particular was chosen, I couldn't figure out.

'I – uh, you – eh – the monsters – hole – Ralph, Mother –.' Nothing I said then made sense to her, but to me, it seemed perfect logic. I calmed down and tried again.

'I can't explain it, Emma. First, I was trapped in my house for . . . three days. Then, this "hole" appeared. I went through it, and saw people die – weird monsters – creepy, distorted versions of real places. Everybody I met was getting killed by that guy in black; had numbers carved into their body. It's all some sort of ritual, to wake up his mother, or something. I barely made it in time to stop him from killing you. You aren't getting any of this, are you?'

'That guy in black was real? That was . . . really you?' She sounded touched.

'Yeah,' I sighed. 'Sorry I couldn't get there sooner, I was delay–'

I didn't finish that thought, because as I spoke she leapt up and wrapped her arm around my waist, burrowing her face into my shirt as she sobbed. I tried to speak, but only willed myself to wrap my arm around her and go along with it. And the worst part is, for a second, I felt like joining her, opening the floodgate of emotion that was being battered constantly, unleashing the tears that I'd been suppressing the whole journey.

_If you break down, Dave, she'll have noone to rely on. You gotta be strong, don't cry. You can cry all you want when she's safe. Or, if you fail in keeping her safe, you can definitely cry untl the world–_

'Oh David,' she said as she pried her face from my bloody (and now wet) shirt. 'You – you saved my life.'

As asinine as the action was, I shrugged my left shoulder and lowered my head to the right, smirking and saying 'It was nothin'.'

_Fool. You idiotic, egotisical_ _jackass. Can't say 'You're welcome' or 'What else could I do' or something other than 'It was nothin''?_

She laughed a little and stepped back. Lowering her head, she grew serious, and, in a low voice, said 'Thank you.'

And I, in a serious manner, said 'What else could I do?'

A smile crept onto her face, but was quickly concealed under the graveness of the situation at hand. She moved for the door, but hit the bag and stumbled. On instinct I was there to catch her. The way she eyed my bag was somewhat a mixture of curiosity and scepticism, and I felt I had to open it. Lifting it, I laid it on the bed and patted its side.

'This is my weapons cache and storage device,' I said. Unzipping it, I pulled out the double barrel and warhammer, the only weapons I had at the moment. I was regretting not having the pipe, as I'd like to have armed her.

Suddenly I got an idea.

'Nothing I can use,' she said, disappointed. 'What's going on anyway? Why are you carrying a hammer and double-barrel?'

'And pistol,' I said as I pulled it out of my pocket. 'Stay here a moment, I'll be back right away.'

She seemed reluctant, but agreed.

I turned left down the hall and opened the room occupied by the rust-coloured monster. It was standing once more, and upon seeing me, it flew into rage. Once it swung, and I was too slow in dodging it. I hit the right wall, and somehow the door closed.

_Fire!_

I raised the gun and pumped the last remaining five rounds into the thing. I grabbed a clip and slammed it into my handgun. Ripping the pipe from the abomination's hand, I returned to Emily and handed it to her. When I entered she was by the bag, clutching it tightly, and I knew the sound of the gunshots had startled her.

She looked at it disdainfully but conceded and gripped it tightly in her left hand. I grabbed the bag after refilling it. and moved for the door. The damn pipe had hit my shoulder, and I knew it was bruised. It panged as I opened the door, but I gritted my teeth and trudged on. Emily cried out suddenly, and I whipped back to see that she was holding her left leg.

No words had to be spoken for me to realise what the first scream I'd heard in the Ashfield world was for. Her leg was damaged, whether fractured or sprained, it seemed painful to move. I moved to her side, and she wrapped her arm around my arm and neck as I wrapped mine around her waist. Supporting her as we walked out, I was the first one who screamed as we turned to move down the hallway.

Two sewer monsters with golf clubs.

Gently, I released her and stood in front of her, lifting the pistol with two hands to cull the shake of panic from my hands. I took one deep breath.


	17. Chapter 17: Descent

Chapter 17: Descent

The handgun jumped fiercely in my hand as I pulled the trigger, propelling a bullet towards the leftern sewer monster. They were greyish in colour, so I'll call them Greys at this point. Anyways, the first bullet hit the Grey dead-on in the shoulder, tearing out a chunk of bone. I stepped back and fired once more. I hit the shoulder again, but was nearer to the throat. The Grey roared – I took deep breath and pulled the trigger one final time, and the bullet hit home in the beast's throat; it fell to its knees, clutching its mortal wound, and died moments later.

The right Grey shrieked at the loss of its comrade, and its slow shamble turned into a dead on sprint. But simply attacking me wasn't enough. Emily was to my right, and there was about a foot between us – the Grey _clearly_ was charging her.

I broke into a run to intercept it, firing blindly. Twice the pistol rang out before I felt the searing pain of a putter in my abdomen; screaming in agony, I stumbled forward into the monster, bringing both of us down. But, not before I brought my pistol up, and to its throat. One pull was enough to kill it, but three times I fired. When the beast stopped writhing, I let out a defeated moan and tried to stand. Those golf-clubs hurt badly, and I knew it'd leave a large bruise.

I felt a hand on my shoulder as I caught my breath, and then Emily's voice saying 'Are you alright?'

I coughed, and stood upright, shrugging and stretching. 'I've had worse.' _Like, say, almost being shot, or almost being skewered, or getting hit in this same spot with that Pyramid Head's knife._

'I hope you're fast at reloading,' she replied. 'How many bullets did you use? The whole clip?'

'I got two left, and I am a quick reloader.'

'How much ammo do you have, anyway?'

'Two left in the pistol, seven spare clips. I can always go melee when I want, and I prefer bashing them to blasting them – but the gun is the easy way, and . . .'

'Yeah.'

I shrugged and grabbed the golf clubs, then I reached around her waist again, and she wrapped her arms around my neck. I suddenly remembered that I hadn't tried the last door, but I began to think about the fact that I probably didn't want to. Still, the curiosity that killed the cat nagged at me. We walked to the door again, and I let her down. Asking her to open the door for me, I aimed the pistol inside as the door opened.

What I saw haunted me forever.

There was a human body hanging on the wall, strung up by its arms by barbed wire, its blood all over the room. Its legs were missing, and stomach was missing its skin; its ribcage was split . . . split straight in half and its organs hanging out. And its face . . .

Its face was mine, twisted into a soundless scream, eyes gouged out and _21121_ written across my throat.

I screamed a bloodcurdling scream and charged forward, slamming the door, and scaring Emily to death. She tried to peer through the small hole.

'What?' she asked.

_What? What do you mean 'What'? Can't you SEE the corpse on the wall? Don't you KNOW who that is?_

I stood up and peered through the hole cautiously – there was nothing. I opened the door, pistol pointed at the apparition. And there really was nothing, just a normal room. Putting my hand to my forehead, I rubbed above my eyes and leaned against the wall.

_You're fuckin' losin' it Willand, you're going insane. It's not just this place that seems to be crazy, you're slowly getting there too. Get the straight-jacket, we've got another one comin' in. IF you get out of here, you won't be mentally fit to continue as you were. Just roll up in a ball and–_

'Are you okay?' Emily asked, standing in front of me, propping the pipe against the wall and holding my other hand. My psyche was thrust painfully back into (what I hoped was) reality. Taking her hand slowly, I smiled and helped her walk towards the exit.

'I'll be alright.'

When we came to the exit, she asked the question that I'd seen coming a mile away.

'What's happening, David?'

'Well,' I sighed, 'at first, you aren't gonna get this, and you may not believe me, but I don't care: this is what happened. I woke up a few days ago to find my front door chained up, my back door too, and my windows wouldn't open – I tried to get out the whole first day, but nothing worked. Then this weird hole appeared in the utility closet floor – it led to this weird antechamber, with a shrine in the centre. There was a door, and a note that said . . . '_The Door to Assumption, and the Key of Truth_', I think. It was locked up. After that, I went back to my house and saw you trying to get me. I banged on the window, hammered it, but you couldn't hear me.' Emily looked down, as if ashamed. 'Don't worry. Blake couldn't hear me either, the second time.'

'You saw that?' she asked.

'Yeah.' Just then I had a horrible thought. If Blake was her friend, how could I tell her how he died? How I failed to keep him alive? Did she even know he was dead? I decided not to chance it.

'Anyways, I found this weird hole again, but in my laundry room. I ripped a plank from the wall and climbed through – it lead to this weird office building, Reynolds or something.'

'Reynolds-Ambol?'

'I think so. I met this guy named Shaun, but he was a loner, and we went separate ways. A few minutes later, I found this lizard-monster, and killed it with the plank. After a pretty hectic few minutes, I met Shaun again, armed with a pistol. He saved my life, so I'm grateful for that, but he wandered off again. About that time I began finding ammo for his gun, which, you may have guessed, is this baby right here. I'm bloody rubbish with it though, used to waste a whole clip on one monster.' _Mostly the Red Pyramid._

'Yeah,' she said, signalling me to go on.

'A few minutes later, I found Shaun. Hung by his throat to a pole, but I didn't see where the numbers were written on him. More on that in a minute. Then–'

We had talked through the walk up the long stairs, and now we were back in the room I started from. The candles must have obscured it, because I saw a hole where some of the candles had died down, on the wall straight in front of us. I smiled relief and jogged up to it, holding my hand out, pointing to it for Emily.

'This thing leads back to my house.'

'What?' she asked, and scanned the wall.

'What do you mean? This.' I stuck my hand through the hole, and she gasped. I motioned for her to come to me, and she did, albeit slowly because of her leg. I took her hand, and guided it through the hole – and right when I reached where the actual hole began, we were repelled. I let go and stuck my hand in. I couldn't let her in?

_Oh, it figures that I can't leave her somewhere safe. Well, safe for now, I guess. Never know what'll happen in the future._

'Sh–crap.' I put my hand on the wall and thought for a moment. Suddenly there was a rumbling noise from somewhere, and my first instinct was to rip out the pistol, scanning the area.

'Dave?' Emily said from my side. I turned to her, and she smiled sheepishly. 'I'm just hungry, sorry.'

'Well, I'll go back to my house and fetch you something to eat.'

Her eyes grew wide. 'Don't leave me here!' she pleaded. 'I can't take it here! It's so creepy, so dark and lonely. Please!'

'Emily, I swear, I'll be right back.'

She whimpered a little as she sat on the church bench, and said weakly, 'Hurry.'

Never feeling so . . . sad, I guess, I climbed through the hole.

– –

Jogging to my kitchen, I searched through my freezer and refrigerator, then the cupboards. I'd had food to give her from the bag, but I didn't think that chips and a soda were adequate for the situation. You don't give someone who's had a traumatic assault, and who is stuck in a world of monsters and such, potato chips.

Unfortunately, it appeared that that was all I had . . .

Luckily, I found some leftover Taco Bell, a chalupa from four days prior. Heating it up in my microwave, I noticed a strange sound. It was faint, but sounded as if it was a whisper in fast-forward. Nothing said was coherent, but it was too creepy to be left uninvestigated. I moved slowly into my living room, pistol out stretched, and the whispering grew stronger.

I was by the radio when I got a wicked headache – I turned to it, and stumbled back. The whispering was growing louder, until it was practically booming. Just like normally, the loud volume itself was giving me a headache. I almost shot the radio, but it cost too much money to do so – trying anything else, I hit the off switch, but I knew it wouldn't work. Unable to stand the whispering anymore, I grabbed the Holy Candle from the bag and my lighter from my pocket: I set it on the table and lit it. Instantly, the whisperings decreased in volume, and my headache began to fade.

_Hmm . . . fancy that._

The microwave beeped, and I moved for it before I noticed a note on the coffee table. I grabbed it, and there was an envelope taped to it – a key, large and ornate, fell out.

_This world is not like the world of Reality. It has . . . limits, you might say. It also must follow established rules. The 'worlds' you see . . . they are fragments of Ralph's memory, mostly distorted through his demonic hate of the Real World. Ralph actually knows that the so called 'Holy Mother' is in fact the Devil – he just wishes to eradicate the world for how it treated him, and fulfill a childhood promise to Walter Sullivan. He is ruthless, yet too intelligent. He seems to have carefully calculated every move that I will make. It makes my blood run cold._

_But I've done some thinking. By analysing the Cult's Bible on the Descent of the Holy Mother via the Conjuring (21 Sacrifices in the 'Mother's' name), I've figured out the whole of the ceremony, and, if you truly are Wisdom, you may be able to find a loophole:_

'_First, bring the hearts of five and the minds of five, to show that thou hast faith; fast six days, and on the 12__th__ hour of the sixth day, consume the hearts and the minds. Thou shalt receive Immortality, and ascend to the power of the Servants of the Mother._

'_From thy mind, a world shall be conceived, thy own yet not; for thy powers are of the Mother, and She makes such possible, even as She doth incubate at the Heart. From the highest point to the darkest depth, they all be within the Mother. From the life of the Conjurer the realms are taken, and from the soul of the Mother are they strengthened. _

'_Let the blood of the Mother Reborn grace the black cup, and let the Holy Mother consume it in whole – then the Mother's bond to the material world shall be tied once more, and let her vessel be the flesh of the Mother Reborn. From Darkness and Despair she shall wake, free from Treachery and Heresy, and through Anguish, she shall pass into Immortality_

'_Let her wander in Solitude to purge her of Arrogance, and let Order enter her heart, as she learns to control her divine Rage._

'_In Wisdom's search, he shall __descend__ into the light; yet his dark heart shall not be enlightened, and the Conjurer, with the Red Servants, shall purge him – by this act, the Holy Mother shall grace the world once more.'_

I wasn't sure of the purpose of the note in particular, but I noted that '_descend_' was underlined. I assumed it meant I'd have to keep going down somehow. But, I wasn't close to figuring out what it meant. I tucked the note in my pocket and the key in the bag. I went through the hole once more.

– –

'David!' came Emily's voice as soon as I could see anything. 'I didn't think you'd come back!' Suddenly I saw her moving towards me. I approached her, about to get the food out, when she wrapped her arm around me and cried into my shoulder.

I tried to speak, I really did, but I didn't. All I did was wrap my arm around her back nervously and pat her shoulder while hugging her a little closer to me. Being the hero wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

'It's too terrifying here!' she said in between sobs. 'Don't leave me alone! I'm so scared that he'll burst through a door, or suddenly appear behind me!'

'Don't worry,' I consoled her. 'Listen, we've got to move on. I think I know a way out.' Just then, I had a though, a question, and it was too urgent to wait. 'Emily, do you know a man named Ralph Derecks?'

She looked up at me, and seemed to think for a minute. 'He's the guy that tried to kill me. I went to school with him, back when I lived in Silent Hill. He was always absent, and when he was there, he was always hurting someone. But he was sweet if you got to know him. Of course, that's changed now.'

'I see. Do you know a . . . uh, "Walter Sullivan"?'

'Walter Sullivan? How do you not know him? He's the guy who killed ten people, and then got arrested, about four years ago. Supposedly he committed suicide in his cell, only to reappear and kill nine more people before he was finally killed by . . . umm, I think his name ended with Townshend or something.'

'Henry Townshend?'

'Yeah. You read about that story too?'

'That, and I went to school with him. Quiet guy, and took really good pictures. Never thought him the kind of guy to kill . . .'

'I bet that if he went through the same thing we're going through, I don't blame him. There was also some girl named Eileen Galvin. I went to college with her. Damn. Two of the most unlikely people to have to face this shit.'

'And we're qualified?'

'Well, no . . .'

'I know what you mean. I'm gonna have to reconnect with Townshend after this. But we are just inferring, you know? Sullivan couldn't have made something as psycho as this – but Ralph and he _did_ know each other.'

'And, Ralph killed ten people, disappeared, then killed nine more people up to this point.' I nodded, and pulled out the note that Thomas left me. Emily didn't notice what I had right away, but she did eventually.

'What is that?' she asked.

'You know a Thomas Iridan?'

'Yup, used to write for the _Ashfield Informer_.'

'He was one of Ralph's victims. And, I've been getting notes from him, like this one. He says that I – we, have to "descend" into the light, though I'm sure that's just the Cult's perspective, and it's really darkness, or something like that. I also got a key, which I assume goes to that door.' I pointed to the one right of the altar.

'Okay,' Emily sighed. 'I'll come with you. Just don't let me get killed, okay?'

_No guarantees there._ 'Okay.' I handed her the food, and she thanked me and began eating. Once she finished, she stood and I helped her up. The key was really the one to the door next to the altar, and inside was another staircase. Slowly we descended, and this staircase went straight, unlike the previous one.

At the bottom, there was an iron door with a rotten smell coming from inside. Upon opening it, I realised what part of the 'church' we were in.

_This is a fucking morgue._

Steel shelves in rows and columns on the wall to our left, some open, some closed, but all containing bodies, I wagered. And to make matters worse, there were rust-coloured demons inside, only two, but still.

I stepped forward and aimed the pistol straight at one's head, releasing a slug that drilled into its abdomen, drawing a stream of blood. Swinging around to the other, I blasted it in its leg, causing it to topple over. Ejecting the current magazine, I slid a fresh one in and aimed at the rust-demon still standing. Two rounds I pumped into its chest and throat, respectively, and when it collapsed, I cracked its skull open. Stooping, I flicked the pistol's safety on and put it in my pocket as I grabbed the golf-club that this one had been carrying, a putter. Turning to the other, I swung the club to intercept the pipe that it had swung at me. The club resisted, and the rust-demon was dismayed.

Especially when a steel pipe sailed into its back from behind.

The rust-demon toppled once more, and I stomped its skull as I did the other one. I looked to Emily, who merely shrugged, and grated her pipe against the wall to rid it of the monster-blood.

'Nice swing,' I congratulated.

'Nice aim,' she replied. I had a feeling that was sarcasm.

Moving on, we approached the far-side of the the room to find a door to the right. Opening it led to a long hallway, bare and crusty and smelling of corpses. Cautiously we walked through, and thankfully it was monsterless. At the end there was a door, with a strange symbol upon its top. Truly uninterested, I opened it and we stepped through.

We were almost blinded by the sheer whiteness of the room. It was a staircase, with a black rail and crimson steps, that went down about ten steps only to turn sharply back towards us, and go down ten steps to turn abruptly forward again. We carefully went down, which wasn't easy considering Emily's leg, and as we did we noticed the white dimming a little, scarcely noticeable though.

After a few minutes we finally reached another door, with the same ugly symbol on it. Opening it led to a black room, cold, and with the sound of many lizard creatures baying at something unseen. Stepping forward I realised that we were outside, and there was a thin pathway leading before us. And the realisation of exactly where we were was like being shot in the balls with a damn magnum.

This was where Shaun had died.


	18. Chapter 18: Terrors of Body and Mind

Chapter 18: Terrors of Body and Mind

I looked at the pathway with a cold dread, fearing to cross it yet knowing I had to. With the golf club still in my hand, I helped Emily walk across the narrow path – I thought I was hearing a rope creaking from somewhere, and decided it was my guilt doing a number on me. But still, my sole fear was most present in my course of action, so I readied my pistol, sliding the club in the bag.

And my caution was rewarded.

We stepped through into the cubicle area, damp and grey, completely emotionless. I heard the moan of a lizard, and aimed in the general direction – but it was far from a lizard. From a leftern cubicle I saw something red walk out, crab-like legs, six in all, that clicked when it walked. Its torso was wide and scaled, but it was connected to the head by a long, thin neck. The head had two white slits for eyes, and its teeth were razor sharp spikes.

Its tail was a long, spindly trunk , with a sharp point at the end and many spikes at random pointed on the tail's body. If this thing was bulletproof, I knew that I'd be dead. Game over.

Of course, I had the rifle, which might pierce its scales, but I was saving that for the Red Pyramids, and my ammo was too scarce to waste on this thing. The double-barrel might do it too, and there's the warhammer also. But at the moment, all I had was the pistol to fire before it converged on us.

Emily gasped when she saw it, and took a step back. Aiming, I pumped one bullet into its chest: the bullet drilled through like normal. I moved the gun up and shot – the bullet hit the thing's throat, and it stumbled back; it soon recovered, though, and came after us once more. One more bullet I drilled through its skull – it fell down, motionless. Warily, I kicked it.

Dead.

Moving on, we came to the hallway where Shaun had saved me – which I suppose is why the irony of what happened here is somewhat humourous . . . to a bystander.

We were walking, just moving along, when suddenly Emma gave out a scream and jumped back. I turned to her, but didn't make it one step when I felt something like a vice close around my neck. In vain I grasped upward, trying seize the attacker – and then the headache came. At first I thought there was a ghost coming, and I began to panic wildly. Quickly, I realised from the magnitude of the headache, that there was no ghost coming.

It already had me.

My lungs screamed for the air that I was being lifted into. The pistol began to labour me, until I remembered that I still had five shots in it. Closing my eyes involuntarily, with my last movement I lifted the pistol up and pulled the trigger five times. My mind began to slip away before it was pulled back by the feeling of hitting the floor.

On impulse my eyes shot open and I drew a sharp gasp of air. I was facing up, and as the ghost went away, I realised who it was. It was suspended by a rope, a noose around its throat, which passed through the ceiling as if on a rail. The bastard had grabbed me with his feet – that might explain how painful it was.

'Shaun,' I coughed in misery. Shaun was a ghost now. The realisation hit me hard, harder than when I realised that Emily was a victim. Would all of them come back like this? Only one person would know. Well, two actually. Ralph, and possibly Thomas. I began to wish that I could talk to him.

Emily was at my side as I rubbed my sore throat, and she embraced me as she tried to soothe me with 'It's alright' and 'He's gone'.

_But he'll come back. I can't take the normal ones, but Shaun is like a . . . SUPER ghost. I can't do this alone, I can't take this. Emily is company and comfort, but she's no warrior – it's up to me to keep us alive._ _But I can't. I'm no warrior either, and if it's up to me, then we're shit out of luck._

I stood slowly, and slid a fresh clip into the pistol. I took a left, going the only way I never went when I was first here. Going through a hallway, we came to a small intersection, with a door to the left and a door to the right. We decided on going left first, and it opened into a small closet. At first I thought nothing good could come from such a small room; but I spied something leaning in the corner. It had a triangular handle, and a long, metal blade with strange symbols carved upon it. Suspicion forced me to pick it up; I found it was _light_ in a sense, but too unbalanced and awkward to wield as a weapon. Still, looked as if it'd have some use.

'Eww,' Emily said. 'That's one ugly sword.'

'I hear you there,' I said as we went through the right door. There came another lizard moan, and I dispatched it with two shots to the head. We were in a hallway once more, with a staircase going down and a door straight ahead that turned out to be jammed. Down the stairs we went, a feeling of dread following us.

Down the stairs there was a rust monster that went down in three shots, and a strobe light that flickered with a pale, yellow light; I then realised that the walls themselves were yellow, too. Everything seemed wrong down there. From the stairs, there was a door straight ahead or a right turn that led to another stairway. The door was jammed, so once more we went down the stairs. The strobe light was an even paler yellow, leaving the walls to appear decayed and derelict. I preferred the grey emotionlessness of the top floors to this sickly, pathetic yellow of the lower floors. At least there was no need for the flashlight, though.

Once more, the door was jammed – we approached the stairway when suddenly the strobe light went out entirely for five seconds. It then flashed on a deep red, and a powerful whooshing sound came from behind us.

_Oh dear God, no. . ._

From the stairway leading up there came a shape, a deeper crimson than the strobe light, and wielding a long spear once more. My first instinct was to use the rifle, but Emily was already halfway down the stairs. Despite her leg, she was limping fast to stay away from him.

I stepped back and leapt down the whole flight of stairs, landing painfully on my backside. Turning to the Pyramid, I loosed the remainder of my clip into his revealed torso. He screamed and slowed down. We were in a long hallway, with sheer blackness on the other side; I wasted no time in joining Emily, stuffing the pistol in my back pocket. Emily was lagging behind by a considerable amount, and Pyramid was definitely going to get her if I didn't do something.

I spun around as fast as I could without losing balance, and took her hand. The Pyramid was about six feet from us. The rifle wouldn't stop him from skewering us. My confidence in Champion wasn't enough for me to risk my life with it. Discretion is the better part of valour, it is said. When facing the Red Pyramid, discretion seemed the only option.

Wrapping my arms a little roughly about her torso, and stooping to pick her legs up, I lifted Emily, straining my already pained back from my little stunt on the stairs.

The pain was getting unbearable, but I couldn't drop Emily. Not with that bastard behind me, no sir. I managed to gain a little on him, but he was still fast.

'Oh _fuck_!' I screamed as my back panged as my back panged relentlessly. 'Emily, get the light!' She flicked the flashlight on, and we found ourselves nearing a large company of rust-demons. 'Oh for the sake of–' I yelled as I saw them, and my back was beginning to quiver from the unbelievable strain.

Perhaps, it seems, this is what saved our lives.

Just as we neared the demons, my back gave out. Falling forward, Emily spilled out into the demons, rolling, knocking their legs from under them. I landed on my stomach, gripping my back, cursing. I turned to Pyramid Head, who was about eight feet away, and raised the rifle.

'Go to Hell!' I screamed as I pulled the trigger – the bullet tore through the air and drilled through the abomination's helmet. I cocked it, and fired once more. Just like his buddy, I guess, this one decided it most definitely _wasn't_ worth it. He turned around and fled, shrieking the whole time. Unfortunately for him, he turned before the shell left the barrel, and found his back being bitten by a very vicious metal fang.

Letting the rifle fall, I reached into my pocket for a handgun clip. Jamming it into the gun, I raised to find only one had stood. I unloaded thrice into its abdomen, and it fell dead. Two stood up, but Emily was now too, and she cracked one's skull open with her pipe, and then parried the other's pipe as she thrust it into the thing's face, stunning it long enough for me to send a bullet through its skull.

The last remaining rust-demon swung its pipe downward at me. I dropped the pistol and brought my foot up to intercept it: it worked, because the thing stopped when it hit the arch of my shoe, to which I brought my other foot up and snatched the pipe from it. Taking it in my hands, I leaned up and swung the pipe forcefully into its groin. It fell to the ground lifeless.

Standing up, I asked Emily if she was alright.

'Yeah,' she said, 'thanks for . . . you know . . .'

'Can't say _no problem_ there,' I said, rubbing my back. We continued on, to a stairway just like the original, with a strobe light flashing yellow.


	19. Chapter 19: The Noose

Chapter 19: The Noose

_Rifle_.

I pulled four shells out of my satchel and slid them cautiously into Champion, shaking the whole time. Two people, an injured woman and a broken man, far below the reaches of light, in an decaying building with monsters everywhere – I don't think anything, not even a dose of tranquilizers, would stop my shaking.

Despite my trying to quell it for Emily's sake, she clearly saw how this trip through Hell was affecting me. Any ounce of courage or bravado I'd had was now extinguished by sheer horror. Adjusting my grip on the pistol, I twisted my back so it popped. The pain had reduced, but, despite Emily's light weight, the burden was too much. Mostly, it was the duffel bag, jammed full of gear.

'Dave,' Emily said as she put her hand on my arm. The _only_ reason that I hadn't snapped miles back in the Church, or the City, was because of her. If not for finding her, I'd have fallen to the ground, laughing hysterically, underwear on my head and silly string all over me. Or, there would be a bullet lodged in my head.

The pistol wasn't enough. Not enough firepower for me. Sure it held ten bullets, but ten bullets that do as much damage as a punch to those monsters did too little good. But the shotgun was too dangerous, with Shaun around. I knew that I had to take him out, but I didn't quite know how. The pistol was fast enough, and with Shaun, I'd need as much speed and ammo as I could.

Walking forward we traversed the seemingly endless stairway, going down at least six flights of stairs before the strobe light became an utter crimson. And the worst thing was, there were no lights nearby. So, this light simply couldn't exist. Only the metaphysical could exist without a source, and I was sure light was physical.

The lights went out for a few seconds, and then a low-pitched, deep rumbling sound occurred – the lights flashed on, and then began to strobe once more. This was not before I spied a 'ripper', one of the bigger lizards, clicking forward.

Bringing the handgun up, I pumped four bullets involuntarily, hitting the torso twice, the leg once, and the head. Two bullets left in the clip, and the thought made me despair. I needed to stop wasting bullets.

We were in an even longer hallway, but about halfway through it, the thing was completely _ripped out_, and replaced by many planks of wood, haphazardly placed together. It seemed sturdy, so we crossed hastily. It sloped down, replaced by a rough stone slab and a large tunnel sloping down. We walked carefully.

There were two large stones, wells without the holes, with two objects on them: one was an ugly, silver medallion on a thick string – on impulse, I put it over my neck.

'Why are you putting that on?' Emily asked as I looked to the other stone slab. 'How do you know it's not . . . _cursed_ or something?'

'I don't,' I said vaguely, somewhat in a trance. 'It just . . . doesn't feel overtly malevolent. In fact, it feels somewhat _benevolent_.' She went 'Humph' and stepped forward. On the second stone slab there was another sword, similar to the other one – an idea entered my head then as I put it in my bag. Around a bend, there was a single slab of stone stretched over a black abyss. We crossed warily, and it merged with stone floor in yet another tunnel. This tunnel was extremely long – but at the end, we were 'rewarded' with a single metallic door. It was utterly bare, no sign of wear or decay, and no symbol of any kind. I tried the knob, and it turned with a loud sliding sound.

I opened the door to find a large, stone room – it was cold, frigid, and the air was so oppressive that it made my head hurt. As I stepped forward, I heard the sound of a rope dropping, but then reaching its extent and being forced back up. Shaun's last words echoed in my head.

_Shoot me!_

I saw Shaun descend into the room via his noose, and he seemed to cry out in suffering mixed with anger. He zipped towards me. I prepared myself for the headache as I raised the handgun, but all I felt was a humming in my ears and a vibration on my chest.

_The Medallion . . ._

Emily screamed as she raised her pipe and brought the head down viciously on Shaun's kneecap. Needing time to aim, I sprinted away from the battle and turned back, aiming for Shaun's head. He didn't even bother with Emily; his rage was centred towards me.

'So,' I said. 'You're angry for me letting you die?'

No response, not that I expected one.

'You want your revenge on the guy who tried his best to save your life! Well _fuck you_!' I pulled the trigger twice, sending the metallic death-tools into the ghost's head. Shaun flinched, and continued.

I slammed one of my spare clip into the pistol, and aimed again. One, two, three, four, five – the bullets were barely phasing him. But I could still see: they _were_ indeed phasing him. Every bullet seemed to slow him down, and when he dropped to choke me, I dove forward and spun back, unloading the last remaining bullets. Shaun was moving with a sluggish pace, moaning and snarling simultaneously as he creaked along the invisible rail for his metaphysical rope.

Ejecting the spare clip, I slid the fresh one in. This was a severe blow to my ammunition, and now I had to use the double-barrel. Of course, when you most need something, you can't find it, can you? The shotgun must have been buried deep in the depths of the bag, because I couldn't reach it. Shaun crept closer, silent now, anticipating the kill. I tried to find something that would hit him that wasn't a firearm, and I found it: my long-lost friend, the hammer.

I felt like Wulfgar when I reared up and loosed the hammer into Shaun's kneecap – the appendage bent back far beyond its limits, the sinews tearing as it came back down. Like most ghosts, I figured this one could regenerate.

Then Shaun attempted something I never imagined. He reached down, with his hands, and brought me up to his face. My air supply was cut off, my neck tissue bruised by the sheer violence of his grip. His eyes were wide open, his face pale, and his lips a milky white. He opened his mouth and screamed, terrifying me. I struggled in vain to be free of his grip.

Suddenly I heard a sick crack, and Shaun dropped me – I fell to the floor rolling, holding my throat and coughing. I heard Emily scream, and saw Shaun choking her as he had done me. She was straining wildly, but in vain.

Any fear vanished in that one moment of raw emotion, that reckless love that forced me into motion. Springing up, I sprinted to the ghost, dropping the hammer and pulling out the fully-loaded pistol. Shaun looked to me, readying to strike me as he dropped Emma, who coughed heavily.

And then I jumped.

I seized Shaun's hips, heaving myself up as I gripped his shoulder, pinning his legs together with mine, and wrapping my hand around his throat, screaming a savage sound of utter hate. His hands, cold and pale, grabbed my throat, and, since I was mortal, I actually began to suffocate. He growled in satisfaction –

until my pistol barrel pressed against his left-eye.

'Ironic, that the gun you used to save my life, I will use to end yours – again.'

Finger on the trigger.

_Pull._

_Shake._

_Flash._

_Pull._

_Shake._

_Flash._

This repeated eight times until Shaun fell to the ground, me on top of him. Rolling, I grabbed the Sword out of the bag on instinct, and with a cry, slid it effortlessly into his stomach. It straightened, and stood rigid, as if its only purpose was to pin the ghosts.

_Lucky I have another one._

Emily was on the ground, head bent, recovering from Shaun's attack. I touched her shoulder and kneeled to look her in the eye.

'Are you alright?' I asked.

'Yeah,' she said slowly as she nodded. 'Throat's sore, now.'

'I'm . . . sorry,' I said, standing up. I remembered to slam a clip in, though I missed because unwanted, and unprecedented tears blurred my vision. Even though it was a minor wound, it broke my heart to see her injured more than she was. Biting my lip to stem my desire to cry, I trudged over and picked up the war hammer as I got the duffel. When I turned around, Emily was standing up, moving for the other side of the room, to a door with the same, obscure red symbol present on all other doors. As I moved to open it, I felt Emily's hand on my shoulder. Turning around, I was startled by a forceful embrace – Emily's head rested on my chest, and never had I felt so solemn and euphoric simultaneously.

'Thanks, Dave,' she said.

'Thanks, Emma,' I replied. Together we opened the door, leading to a dimmer staircase much like the one leading here. At the bottom, the light had faded to a bright silver. Opening the door at the bottom, we stepped onto grass. I looked around, trying to determine where we were.

We were looking at a playground.


	20. Chapter 20: Fragments

_A lot of references to STP (Stone Temple Pilots) in this chapter (Plush, 'dead and bloated') because that's what I was listening to when I wrote this._

Chapter 20: Fragments

Fear.

The most primitive emotion, perhaps, and yet, the one everyone dreaded to have – some might say they feared fear. And it is the most complex emotion at the same time, for many things can stir it and near all things fuel it. And that may be why fear is, itself, the most feared emotion: because its presence is subtle, yet unmistakable and nigh incurable. Fear itself, concentrated emotion, seemed to rule this whole world, this whole place.

For when me and Emily stepped onto the playground, we were instantly enveloped in the worst fear, a fear worse than the Fear of Death: Fear of the Unknown. That feeling you get when you hear a malicious sound in the night, and, as you shine a light in its direction, you see nothing. It's knowing that the threat is there, yet being helpless, unable to see it and thus unfit to resist it.

But many times worse the journey would have been, if not for Emily at my side – she was the fuel, the reason I still resisted, the reason that I took a wary step into that darkness that housed the Formless Fear. And step after step, I found myself not once regretting it. Some deep part of me had to save Emily, just couldn't go on if I didn't save her life. Maybe that's why I wept when she was hurt – one minor flaw can create a chain reaction leading to one's demise. Not that I was perfect, but so far I'd managed to avoid many injuries (though trust me, it was far from easy), while taking down my foes.

Yet now, I was not alone, and if I failed, not one life was lost, but two. And no man with a decent moral code can live with that on his conscience. So I had to push myself to the limits, had to heighten my senses and, if I could, avoid the danger. But with an injured partner, that wasn't easy.

Out came the double-barrel, just for comfort. I didn't bother to check if it was loaded, I just assumed it was so. Every moment in that place, was a moment my sanity was decreased by a sliver.

We ran to the school's entrance, immediately making for the boiler room. Emily seemed confused as to why we were in a school, until she gasped – I assumed that she understood where we were.

'This is my old elementary school!' she cried. 'Me and Blake went here, until–'

'I know,' I said. Emily's face wrung with confusion.

'How do you know that?'

Pausing to think, there was utter silence; 'Nevermind,' I sighed, not wanting to have to mention Blake. The foreboding fear that Blake wouldn't be so friendly if I saw him again, didn't quite make it easy to speak of him. When we reached the boiler, the gaping hole was still there, as well as a handgun magazine on the boiler. Relieved, I tucked the shotgun away and drew the lightweight pistol. Taking Emily's hand, I helped her through the hole. It was big enough for me to walk through, still, so thus Emily could walk too.

Suddenly, from the hallway, there came a monster's growl – several actually – as those grey children shambled, about into the boiler room, about six. Emily opened her mouth to scream, but I gently put my hand over her mouth and we backed up to the door that lead to the chambers. The grey, short monsters tumbled straight into the hole, as if _knowing_ we were there beforehand.

Reaching backwards, I twisted the knob and pulled the door out, stepping inside still facing the demons. When we were safely in the door, I slammed it shut. It appeared that we were stuck in the 'basement'.

We came to where the Chambers were, and found the place seemed in a state of repair. Most of the doors didn't open, but a few did, yielding a Holy Candle, and a medical kit.

I found chute 1-C, and, holding Emily in my arms, I leapt down, landing on the slab of metal. Standing, I hesitantly and slowly opened the door to see if Pyramid Head was nearby; he wasn't. Motioning for Emily to follow, we walked out into the hallway and I turned to the stairway and we traversed it.

There was a rust-demon at the top, which I dispatched simply with two bullets. I found Chute 2-B, and, as I opened the door, I felt the Medallion hum.

_Oh God, this is it. Monica is in here most likely. How can she be any further mutilated than she was when she died!? Well, I guess we'll find out. On second thought, I don't want to put Emily in danger._

'What is it?' Emily asked noting my hesitation.

'Ghost,' I sighed. 'Emma, stay here until I give the signal that it's safe. I'll say, uh . . . "_plush_". Okay?'

'Yeah, sure,' she said. I put my hand on her shoulder, asking with my eyes if there was anything wrong. Stupid question out loud. She sighed and said 'It's just that, I'm terrified to be alone . . . _here_. And of all places . . .'

'I'll hurry as fast as I can. But, the last one was super-powered, so I assume that this one . . .' I shook my head and took a deep breath.

'Are these the people . . . that you saw die?'

'Yeah. Shaun, Monica, and . . . Ben, and . . .' _Blake. Don't say Blake. Does she even know he's dead? She has to, he's in law-enforcement. But– damnit, this is all so unfair!_

'Okay,' she said. 'Hurry – please.' Then she stood upright and planted a small kiss on my cheek. My heart skipped a beat and I nodded, pulling out the pistol.

_For Emily._

I opened the door and stepped in warily, closing the door behind me out of caution. After a sudden though, I whipped around and cracked the door slightly.

'If anything happens, you say "_plush_" too, okay?'

'Yeah.'

Closing the door once more, I stepped forward, overpowered by the smell of the water that Monica's body had been killed in. Shining the flashlight, I saw there was a narrow beam of metal under the mirky water, one that we could cross over. I stepped forward, looking hesitantly as I held my pistol tightly, finger on the trigger.

Splash.

I looked quickly to the direction of the splash, aiming my pistol in panic. It's amazing how calm you think you are, but when danger actually presents itself, you become so shaky, so panicky, and your composure sails out the window.

Out from the water, there rose a corpse, and my Medallion hummed. Suddenly the humming became so intense, and right when I looked at the device, it shattered into pieces, and all around my neck was a rope. Looking up, the headache began to set in. Fortunately this ghost didn't have much 'headache power', if that makes sense. The headache was mild.

The corpse was female, grey-black hair and black, beady eyes, with scraggly robes and pale skin. Monica looked like a normal ghost, dead and bloated. I readied myself to pull the trigger.

My composure and confidence snapped instantly, the first action Monica did.

Her body _separated_.

Her arms, legs, head, torso; all went in different directions, floating around in an aimless orbit. My jaw dropped and I screamed in horror. An arm sailed around and decked me in the face, knocking me in the trajectory of her leg, which slammed into my gut. Nearly vomiting, I managed to scream one word.

'_PLUSH_!'

And then, her torso hit my hip and sent me to the ground. As I caught my breath, I heard Emily rush in, and upon seeing me, she reached down to help me up.

'Forget it,' I gasped. 'Hit her!' I couldn't quite see what she was doing, but I heard a whistle and a crack, then a clunk and splash: I assume

Emily swung, hit an appendage, sent it into the metal walls and then the water.

I summoned all my strength and pushed myself onto my feet – I turned around and tried to find a suitable body part to fire at. Monica was all over the room, but through the dim light I spied her head, with _17121_ on her forehead. Snarling, I aimed my pistol and blasted three shots. Two hit her, and one ricocheted off the metallic walls, landing near me, and bouncing into the water.

Her head fell down, but the other appendages floated around. I tried to spy her torso, and I found it heading towards Emily at high speed. A disgusting yet necessary thought entered my head, and I leapt forward, getting hit by the flying appendage. Wrapping my arms around it, I wrestled the thing to the ground.

'Emily!' I cried. 'Pipe!' With one hand restraining the thing, I grabbed Emily's pipe from her hand and rammed the 'bottom' into the flesh, stabbing through. This I did repeat several times, until at last the torso and headache ceased, and I reached for the bag . . .

. . . to find it not there. It was in the corner.

'Emma!' I screamed in panic. 'Bag! Quick!' She ran over to it, and heaved it up with only her left arm, straining and bringing it to me. Pinning Monica's torso with my knees (which made me feel utterly disgusted) I searched the bag for the sword. Standing, I plunged the sword into Monica's body, which suddenly reshaped in a flash. Gasping with every breath, I fell back and began to _laugh_.

My sanity was hanging by a cord, a single strain, and one more, overwhelming horror would slice that cord, sending David Willand plummeting into the abyss of his own mind. Insanity has a weird way of transforming emotions – horror to humour, for example. Monica had terrified me, but now my mind was shifting it to hysterical laughter.

And there was another reason why I was laughing. Because I was humoured at Ralph, how lame this ghost was. Shaun had been powerful, but Monica – I never liked her in life, but she cracked me up when she was dead. Floating body parts? Ha!

'Dave?'

Snap. Back to reality.

I opened my eyes, climbing out of the recesses of my mind and back into a world of greater horror. Every time I told myself Emily was relying on me, more of me wanted to say 'Fuck it' and lay down, giving in to this horrible feeling of elation without care.

But deep inside, a small flicker of my original self still thrived, the real David Willand. And every time I forced back the insanity, David Willand showed up. That was when the job got done, when the screaming sissy was replaced with a grim man who fought back. And more than ever, Emma was relying on _David Willand_, the David _she_ knew. Not this insane persona that I'd developed ever since . . . Hell, I can't remember.

I toughened up and sat up, still suffering from my hits to the torso. Gripping the pistol, I looked up to see Emily there, looking worried. She offered me a hand, and I took it, pulling myself up to her level. She let go, but I didn't. I went all the way to her face, planting my lips upon hers for a brief moment before smiling and turning away.

After fighting countless horrors, braving impossible environments and seeing four people murdered horribly, I'd finally got the courage to kiss the woman I loved.


	21. Chapter 21: Evasion

Chapter 21: Evasion

Caution.

The one thing that we had when we stepped over the beam connecting the two-sides of the Chute together. We came upon a door, which, after much 'convincing', finally yielded and let us through. It didn't have that red symbol on it, but it did lead to a hallway, with even more doors.

If the building worked how I thought it did, that door couldn't exist.

The doors in this hallway were marked _4-A, 4-B, 4-C_, etc. We were just on the _2-A, 2-B, 2-C_ section. The numbers represented which floor we were on. So we just went through a door leading from the second floor to the third floor – no slope, drop, climb, nothing. This wasn't possible by the laws of nature.

'This is just too crazy,' Emily said, apparently thinking the same thing I was. I shrugged.

'Imagine my surprise when I first came here,' I muttered. She caught it, it seemed.

'I'm surprised you made it this far,' she said. She then quickly added 'Well, I don't mean it like that. I mean, I'm surprised you made it alone.'

I bowed my head. 'Me too.' It hadn't been easy, that was sure. The look on her face was of sympathy as she grabbed my hand. Clicking my tongue, I tried Chamber 4-A: there was nothing inside. Chambers 4-B and 4-C were featureless, and the rest of the Chambers didn't open. I, reluctantly turned to the chutes. None of the Chutes except 4-C opened. Even then, there was red print below the 4-C – it was marked 'Thomas Iridan':

_He's too strong for you to challenge. You think you have 'power' compared to him? What you call 'power' is meager when compared to his. Ralph Derecks has achieved powers to rival the Cursed Mother herself – nearly half of the power of a god. He himself created the Pyramids, one bearing half his soul, and two powered by the Mother. By doing this he made himself immortal. If you truly wish to continue, I will not stop you – but I myself could not go further. Please, do what I could not. Find a way to defeat him, and avenge the wrongful deaths he caused._

'Poor Thomas,' Emily said quietly. 'He never stood a chance against what was happening to him.'

_Pssh, and we do?_

'Yeah,' I said instead. 'If he's one of those "ghosts", I haven't seen him yet – I think. I can't tell one from the other, so I really don't know who I've fought and who I haven't.'

'How many are there?'

'I don't know. Too many for my liking.' I twisted the knob of 4-C, which opened into nothingness. There were steel walls, and a ceiling, but the floor stretched endlessly down.

'Do we _have_ to jump down?' Emily asked me. I laughed and cleared my throat, shrugging. Wrapping my arm around her, I stepped off the edge, bringing her down with me. Both of us lost consciousness.

The only thing you could hear was an air raid siren, blaring all around us. Sitting up, I held my head, stifling the headache I had from the sheer harshness of the sound. I turned to Emily, who was laying on the ground, silently sleeping. Standing, I shined the flashlight around, finding that there was a door behind us that was locked from the other side; before us was a long hallway, stretching farther than the light could go.

There was a feeling I got when _he_ was around. That feeling of dread mixed with horror, the fact that I couldn't quite find the time to kill him, yet _he_ always had the time to waylay me. That spear of _his_ always behind me or in front of me, either chasing me or barring my way.

I could sense the Red Pyramid somewhere in this hallway.

Bending down, I nudged Emily and took her hand as she woke up. Helping her to stand, I pulled out the double-barrel and slung the bag over my shoulder, proceeding with extreme caution.

Advancing down the hallway, there was a smell of a corpse hanging in the air, and there was the smell of wet filth, which was overpowering. The floor splashed slightly as we stepped on it, as well as a gross, slick and wet sound. Just wanting out of the place, we didn't slow our pace at all.

Of course, like always, something went wrong.

Everything went black. Emily gripped my hand harder as I tried to figure out what happened. The fear of that bastard crept up my spine, culminating itself on my neck, forcing my hairs to stand up. I reached for the flashlight, and then I realised that the battery was probably dead.

Somewhat relieved, I reached into my front pocket, where I'd been smart enough to stow away an emergency battery. The unfortunate thing about a flashlight, is that you need light to replace the battery. I felt for the little depression that you pushed to slide the bottom off – found it, and let the empty Duracell fall to the ground. I was about to slide the battery in when Emily cried out, and that whooshing sound came from both sides of us.

_Dear God no . . ._

Footsteps, heavy, against the slick ground. Slamming the battery in recklessly, I screwed the cap on as quickly as I could, stuffed the flashlight in my front pocket as quickly as possible, and flicked the switch.

It was _him_.

On_ both sides_.

Bringing the shotgun to bear, I shot both barrels into the one in front of us. He staggered back, as if fazed, and we, Emily even, despite her leg, darted past him as the second's spear sailed through the air. My ears were ringing from the sheer volume of the blast as I quickly reached into my left pocket and grabbed two shells.

They felt different, though. They had a different casing, was all I knew, and I began to wonder if they were for a diffferent shotgun. Not taking time to care, I slammed them simultaneously into the gun and snapped it shut. Emily was slowing down, and I turned around to find the Pyramid almost upon her.

I ran in front of her, screaming 'Go!' – blindly reaching into the bag for something that didn't blow my eardrums every time I used it, I grabbed the hammer and threw the double-barrel in the bag. Swinging the hammer in a vicious uppercut that hooked his helmet, I ripped the helmet up like I had in the construction site. Pyramid Head toppled back, and tripped his buddy, who fell forward with his spear outward. It stabbed my shoulder, but I forced the pain out of my head and the spear out of the wound. Grabbing the duffel, I sped off toward Emily, who was at the end of the hallway.

_That symbol . . . we're outta here!_

'Open it!' I yelled as I approached, and she opened it and stepped through. Tearing through the open door, I felt Emily shut it as soon as I was through it. I couldn't slow down, however, and found myself jumping down the stairs to avoid falling down them. I landed on my backside, sliding into the railing. Trust me: it wasn't pleasant.

I heard Emily rush to my side and help me up. Putting the hammer away, I took out the shotgun once more and we descended the stairs. The 'atmosphere' was beginning to fade into a dull grey, and the lower we got, the darker it got. Ultimately we reached the door, and, opening it, we found ourselves in a (to me) familiar place.

The room in the sewers where Blake had saved my life from Pyramid Head.

_Blake . . ._


	22. Chapter 22: Tower

Chapter 22: Tower

Hate.

The only thing you could feel in that room was overtly oppressive hate. It circulated around the room, pulsated from the walls, and hung stiff, lifeless, in the air around us. Slowly it choked us, its sheer aggression forcing its way into our minds, filling them with the very emotion we were trying to subdue, trying to evade, trying to defeat.

'Ugh!' came Emily's voice from behind – her hand was to her nose. 'It smells like something died in here!'

'Something did, I don't doubt,' I replied; I had to come to a stop, letting Emily sit down. 'I have no memory of this place.'

'None?' she asked.

'Not one shred, except–' _the Pyramid, and Blake_, '–the first time I encountered one of those grey monsters.' We went through the door leading into the custodian's office, where I'd first found the steel pipe and the **Aether** tablet. Setting the bag down, I helped Emily to the wall and she sat down, leaning against the cold stone – I moved a chair and the table in front of the door, so we wouldn't be bothered.

'Dave,' Emily said from her resting position, 'what's going on here?'

'I wish I knew,' I said, sitting a short distance away from her. 'We're almost to the bottom, I guess.'

'You never finished your story,' she said, grabbing a drink from the bag.

'Where was I?'

'Shaun died.'

'Oh. Then I went through the hole again, coming out in that school. I met the flying-corpse lady, Monica Judillan. She talked to me like I was some ignorant child — guess she did know more than me —'

'Wait!' Emma cried out. 'Ms. Judillian!?'

'Uh, yeah.'

'Humph! I hated her. She was a cold-hearted bitch. Didn't care for our well-being, plus she abused the children. That one teacher, Gordon was always on her about it. Once erupted in a fight. She's still a teacher?'

'Eh, Emily?'

'Oh, she _was_ still a teacher?'

'I guess.'

'If I'd known it was _her_, I'd have stuck the sword in myself.' We laughed, and I continued:

'Anyways, I found those chambers, and then I saw her corpse floating in the water. Waking up in my house, I went through the hole and wound up here.'

'Who got killed here?'

My muscles seized up . . . my mind ran blank – my lungs panged for air that I didn't have to strength to obtain. When at last I got the will to breathe and speak, I just sighed.

'A really, really, good man.'

'Dave?'

I looked down, trying to tell her that her friend was dead. But, the worst part is, that I actually may have been able to save his life. Sure, the Pyramids were down there, but they were slow, easy to dodge, and, in a wide room, easier to fight than a man with a gun. If I'd let him go down first, maybe . . .

'Emma . . . I . . .'

'What?' She lifted my face to meet hers, our eyes connecting, the worst and best thing I'd ever felt.

'I . . . love you.'

_What?_

_Did you just say that?_

_No, you didn't?_

_Yes you did, you did, oh shit._

_We go from 'Blake is dead' to 'I love you' . . . way to go Willand. What were you THINKING?_

'I – uh,' (she chuckled) 'I love you too.'

_Whoa, trippy. What a weird hallucination._

_Oww! That kiss is forceful. Oh, tongue. OH! This is the passionate kiss that we share after we confess our love to each other._

_Damn. I fell for the cliché._ _Well, no harm in it, anyways._

_Weren't there some Tic-Tacs in the bag? Screw it, I don't care._

We kissed for a long few minutes, my hands gently resting on her shouldesr – her hands gripping the dirty, unwashed, unkept black hair running down the top of my neck. When the kissed stopped, we just looked into each other's eyes before I whispered 'Whoa.'

_Okay, she forgot the question, so we're good. Stand up, we gotta get moving. The sooner we run by Blake and kill Ralph, the sooner we can get married and buy a house that doesn't spawn trans-dimensional holes. _

'Emily we have to go, 'kay?'

'Uh-huh.' We stood and opened the door, moving down the tunnels swiftly yet carefully, because there were Grey monsters down there. Emily commented 'They remind me of those one monsters from Final Fantasy . . . what is that thing . . . oh, a Sahagin.'

Thus, we referred to them as sahagins from then on. They carried golf clubs, which one dropped a 7-iron. Stooping, I grabbed it and advanced on two nearby. The golf club, despite being hard to get going, dealt truly devastating damage once you _got_ it going. Rearing back, I swung it horizontally to my left, and it attempted to parry with its putter – though it slowed my 7-iron down, my weapon was going much faster, knocking its weapon out of the way and sending the head into the monster's. With a sick crack, the 7-iron split through the thing's skull, hooked onto the cranium and kept going due to the great force I put into the blow (plus the weight of the head carried it). Continuing down its trajectory, the golf-club was so hooked onto the sahagin that, as it continued left, the sahagin was _lifted_, and as the kinetic energy wore off and I brought the club to rest, the skull fragment the club had been hooked on ripped off, sending the sahagin into the water.

'Holy shit!' Emily exclaimed. The next one was nearing me – I parried its blow with the golf club (its weapon was a sand wedge), and as it recovered, Emily sent her steel pipe sailing into the sahagin's spine, crippling it and allowing me to crush its skull with my boot. We kept going down the tunnels until we came to a ladder going up, and a hole leading to my house. Not wanting to go back, we went up the ladder. Sure enough, we came out the manhole, in the front lobby, occupied by a sahagin. Running forward I swing the golf club head-down, cleaving through the top of its bald head and sending it straight down as I yanked the club in the desired direction. Unfortunately, it bent viciously upward, and now was completely useless as a weapon.

Replacing it with the sahagin's golf club, we continued up the stairs. In the lounge room, there was a Sword of Obedience stuck in the coffee table, splintering wood and collapsing the whole thing when I pulled it out. Putting it in the bag, I found a Saint Medallion hangin on the door knob with a note that said '_He awaits_'.

_Ralph?_

Sliding the Medallion around my neck, I opened the door, entering the spiral staircase room. Running up them, we came to the door leading to the clock face – I cracked the door open, and felt the slighest hum of my Medallion. Shutting the door, I turned to Emily and said 'Wait here.'

'What is it?' she asked, more annoyed than worried.

'Just wait here, please.' She nodded, and I opened the door.

There were two rust-demons directly in front of me – I raised my club to fight them, but then something happened. The Medallion hummed wildly, and a ghost hovered down, swinging an object into the rust-demon's face, then again, and a third time until its head was cracked open. The rust-demon dropped its pipe and fell to the ground. The second met the same fate.

The ghost was clad in black, with black hair, pale skin, exposed bone on his arms, and a cane in its hand. It hovered slowly above the ground before standing on it, and looking up with cold, merciless eyes, begging for death and screaming pain. I gripped the golf club for dear life, now faced with the encounter I'd been dreading since I found Emily.

This . . . abomination . . . before me, was the ghost of Blake Thurle.


	23. Chapter 23: Memoria

Chapter 23: _Memoria_

Hesitation.

A moment of it can cause the ruin of all.

Not one moment did I waste in rushing the ghost of Blake Thurle, swinging the golf club in a downward arc, to which Blake parried with his cane. The blunt cane hooked onto the end of the club, and, with one great movement, heaved it from my hands, disarming me.

Needing time, I dealt a firm kick to Blake's chest, which he snarled at and raised the cane to counterattack. I was out of the way by the time he swung, rolling towards the dead rust-monster, and grabbing its fallen pipe. As I came up, I twisted around to see Blake already upon me, swinging the cane in a diagonal arc towards the left side of my head. With all the force I could muster, I heaved the pipe into the path of the cane, intercepting it and knocking Blake, who had thrown all his force and balance into the blow, backwards.

Recovering from the attack, I reared up and swung the pipe like a bat into Blake's thigh, knocking him to the ground – he rolled away and stood once more, walking slowly, but with an air of doom and despair, my way. He was too persistent, I needed someone who could hit him from behind as I worked him in the front. But to call Emily would most definitely break her heart, to tell her to hit the reanimated corpse of her childhood friend.

That second of reminiscence cost me.

Blake swung the cane into the air, which I barely was able to my pipe in the air to block – his force was greater than my strength, and the pipe, though 'mild' in comparison to the cane, hit me painfully in the forehead, disorienting me and knocking me off balance.

I hit the ground hard, landing on my stomach, and immediately, _frantically_ rolled away in a hysterical panic. I found myself leaning on the clock face – on the ground were the bricks I'd moved away to get the manhole opener. Grabbing one, I launched it recklessly at Blake.

It connected with his shoulder, slowing him down and forcing him back a pace, but otherwise not scathing him.

And yet, the loss of balance can be death in battle.

Sprinting, I didn't so much as 'rear up' as raise the pipe and bring it forcefully down on Blake's forehead. He fell back, roaring in pain, and landed on the ground.

I took a deep breath and made for the bag to get the Sword of Obedience, and heard Emily call 'Is everything alright? David?'

'Yeah, everything's perfect,' I lied, fumbling through the bag for the sword. The idiot I am, I laughed at how simple, almost _easy_ it had been to take down Blake.

Looking up, I was met with a cane to the chest.

Thrown on my back, I dropped the sword and the pipe, and was too dazed to make a run for it. Here, Blake had the mastery. And I had fallen for his trap, I had been the puppet, the fool, the toy, and Blake was the hunter, the stringmaster, the wiseman, the manipulator. Luring me into a false security, getting up when I wasn't looking, and launching the attack when I turned back to him.

I launched my body upward, headbutting him in the groin, and crawling forward, only wanting to put distance between me and the abomination I was engaged with. Crawling, crawling, only to find the ledge, the bare ledge, leading off into the fog.

_Fuck! No!_

Spinning around I faced Blake Thurle, who just stared at me. I struggled to sit up, thinking I could fight back, but the adrenaline ceased, and the muscles I'd been relying upon the whole encounter, my arms, lost their strength. I fell on my back, breathing, ready to die. With both hands, Blake raised the cane high above his head.

'Blake,' I panted. 'It's me, your buddy, it's David, man. Don't do this, Blake, don't do this, you don't have to–'

No reasoning with that cold stare, no reasoning with that hateful glare. Blake's eyes, though I could still sense warmth and laughter, were covered by a sheet of ice, of cold fury that dominated the vessel which bore it. There was no reasoning.

Whistle.

Crack.

Scream.

There came a whistle as I closed my eyes, and then a crack – but I felt nothing. And then there came a scream, an effeminate scream, a scream I knew well. Emily's scream.

Undergoing an entire resurgence, my body's heat returned, my clarity of thought returned, and my strength. I looked up to see Blake on the ground, and then to see Emily's shape stabbing the Sword of Obedience into Blake's figure, and a loud, gurgling noise erupted from the latter, as the former collapsed into a ball and sobbed inconsolably.

Trying to catch my breath, I sat up and crawled to Emily, wrapping my arms around her, holding her tightly – partly in comfort, but mostly because I was freezing my balls off, and I was sure she was no warmer. Her skin was pale and cold, her tears near freezing point as they fell.

'Why – why – why didn't you t–t–t–tell me?' she sobbed as I held her. My mind raced with excuses, but ultimately, there would be no sly or sweet talking my way out of this. I had to be honest.

'I didn't want you to know that Blake was one of them, because I know how close you guys were. And I couldn't accept it myself, because we'd become friends, somewhat, in the short time span that we knew each other.' There was a short silence.

'Why the _hell_ did you take him alone?' she said. 'You could have been killed!'

'Yeah . . .' _Could? WOULD._ _I was being arrogant, and wanted to spare you the pain. But, I guess I failed at that, just like I failed at keeping him alive._

'Without you, I have nothing!' she said as she turned to me and buried her face into my chest, hers heaving as she cried. And then, I found myself, silently as always, crying. I felt so weak, so damn weak, so powerless, and everyone else was paying for it. If I didn't get it together, I'd come apart.

I didn't say a word, I didn't want to alert her to the fact that I was crying – slamming my eyes shut, stifling the sounds and trying to subdue the heaves of my chest. And yet, it didn't work, the heaves pounded out in an abstract rhythm, and the tears fell unbidden down my cheek.

Emily sobbed once more ere I felt her head leave my chest, and I could sense that she was staring at me. I bit my lip and turned away, letting go of her and walking to the door leading inside. Leaning on the wall beside it, I tried collecting myself.

Didn't work.

Turning back, I was caught off guard by Emily, wrapping her arm around me and stroking my back. I lowered my head onto her shoulder, trying to speak. And the floodgate that I'd been holding back burst open, everything spewing out at once.

'I'm sorry, I just, I didn't want you to see – I couldn't put you – if I – I'm sorry, Emily, I just –'

'Shh,' she said as she caressed my back, patting it and kissing me passionately on the lips.

_I feel like a fucking baby. Grown men are not supposed to feel like babies, for God's sake._

_I'm not sure you're mentally fit to handle the title 'Grown Man', David Willand._

_Go fuck off._

At last we ended the kiss – I gathered my equipment in silence, and we headed towards the ladder leading to the courtyard.

I had no idea if I felt better or worse.

Stopping along the way, I cast a final gaze to Blake, who was writhing desperately in the grasp of the Sword of Obedience – dragging his legs up, arching his back, clutching the blade of the Sword trying to heave it out. All in vain, I hoped, but that 'caution' made me paranoid, and so thus we made for the ladder as quickly as possible.

Emily and I went down at the same time, me below her, and like the last time, it seemed an Eternity before we reached the bottom. The bottom was cold and hard, the usual stone, and vague memories of the last time surged into my mind. Absently, I gripped Champion, stroking its cold wood, confident in its ability to see me out of any situation.

Emily reached the bottom; we moved on.


	24. Chapter 24: Fahrenheit

Chapter 24: Fahrenheit

Cold.

We walked cautiously through the fog – I gripped the steel pipe I'd obtained from the rust-monster tightly – Emily walked closely at my side, steel pipe clinking against the ground occasionally – and we came to a great gate, which, after a little labour, opened slowly. We stepped through it, and found ourselves in a courtyard. It was utterly freezing out, my very blood robbed of its warmth. I knew Emily, in even thinner clothing, was miserable, but as soon as we got indoors, we'd have time to warm up.

Unfortunately, this place had other plans.

Footsteps, thicker and slower, came from behind us, and my first instinct was Pyramid Head. Caught off guard, I spun around, pipe clenched tightly against my chest, ready to fight. But what (or rather, whom) I saw put a fear in my heart colder than the temperature outside.

A man, clad in black from top to bottom, with a machete in his right hand that he twirled effortlessly, strode up to us, grinning wickedly as the gate shut by itself. He came to a stop about six feet from us.

'So,' he said, 'you've caught up already.'

'Ralph Derecks,' I snarled, and the pipe came into full-fighting position. Ralph smirked and then full out laughed. He took a step forward, and brought the machete to rest in his hand, pointing at us.

'It seems my reputation is greater than I expected.' His air was so calm, so collected – so cold. You could tell by his violet eyes and sleek black hair . . . you could tell by his speech, soothing yet all-knowing and cunning . . . you could tell by his movements, fluid and effortless . . .

. . . you could tell this man was a cold-hearted killer.

'You,' I said, taking a step to the side, and we began circling each other. Emily moved with me, staying behind. 'You killed Thomas, you killed Blake, you killed . . . all those people.'

'You cannot deny to me, David,' Ralph said somewhat forcefully and yet still calm, 'that you did not enjoy ripping the life away from the natives of this world. To do so would make you a liar, and I don't read you as the kind to lie.'

'And what of you? I read you as a liar, a decrepit killer who would slay the entire Earth for the crimes of a few children.'

'Be silent,' he spat. 'You know nothing of me.'

'Oh, but I know everything about you, Ralph. I'm Wisdom for a reason, you know–'

'Silence!' Ralph cried, visibly losing his tempre as he rushed towards us, machete at his side. He took a fatal swipe at my throat, effortlessly and calculated. Fortunately, I wasn't there to receive the attack. In the moments that I had, I'd pushed Emily to the left, and strafed right, raising the pipe. Emily cried out, but didn't land on her broken arm, thankfully. Ralph turned to me, violet fire in his eyes as he calmly, expressionlessly, raised his arm to intercept the pipe. His arm took damage, but if he felt it, he shrugged it off as he twisted and hacked at my neck with the machete. I stepped back – no, leapt back, and Ralph crouched like a tiger, ready to pounce, left arm before him, machete-hand behind.

He sprang.

I bolted left, but as Ralph landed where I was, a red, rusty object sailed through the air, hitting him square in the head. The object was Emily's pipe, and it stunned him long enough for me to deal a strong kick to his abdomen. Swooping down, I grabbed Emily's sole defence, the pipe, and darted to her, handing it to her and grabbing her hand. Ralph stood; he arched forward, in his standard attack postition (machete-hand bent behind his back, left arm in front of his throat) as he sprinted towards us.

_The gun!_

Dropping the pipe, I pulled out the pistol and started firing, each bullet landing square in his chest as he ran. At first he shrugged them off, but then he grew sluggish and fell over. My finger didn't stop pulling the trigger as we backed up.

'Dave!' Emily cried as she opened a door with a symbol on it. Never more glad to see it, I dove in first. Emily slammed the door shut. Many moments passed, and I never heard Ralph hit the door, but I didn't care whether he was dead or not. As much as I managed to keep myself together, Ralph had terrified me more than anything I'd faced. He was a _human_, he could think for himself and create strategies; and he was in control, with no emotion and no mercy. He was pretty much the most dangerous enemy I'd faced.

There was no ambient light anymore. The background was black, utterly black, with only street lamps lighting the way. At length we began down the stairs, and coming down to the bottom, we felt some grade of success. We were steadily reaching the 'Bottom' and ultimately, we'd get there, and whatever was down there had to be help.

Or maybe Thomas was really Ralph, maybe he was leaving me notes saying that he was Thomas just to bait me and kill me.

Once more, I was interrupted by the fact that my pistol was empty. I had three clips spare, and once I slammed one in, I felt a bad feeling. I slid the gun into my back pocket, making a resolution not to use it until I needed it. Reaching into the bag, I pulled out the hammer and threw pipe over the railing of the stairs. I also considered dumping the clubs, but they may come I handy, I figured. Gripping the hammer tightly, I opened the door leading to the Construction Site.

Instantly, I realised that I was in the room where Ben had died. I looked to the left, and there I found a red axe, the kind used by firefighters. Deciding to drop the hammer off at home (it was too valuable to just leave) I put it in the bag and gripped the axe tightly in my hands. Never did it occur to me that a sharp weapon could be ineffective against an enemy.

Fortunately, there was a sahagin in the hallway for me to try the axe on. Telling Emily to stop, I ran up and lifted the axe over my head, bringing it down hard on the sahagin. The thing moved its head to avoid instant death, favouring the slow death of being brought to the ground by a chop to the shoulder. Blood poured profusely, and the thing writhed in pain. We left it to its slow death.

The trip to the stairway that I'd encountered Pyramid Head nearby was uneventful, no monsters to stop our progress. When we came to the fifth floor (so the label said), inside was a room with no floor in the centre, but a grate covering it. There were two shelves on either side, and I moved for the left. Upon it was a box of rifle ammunition, and I greedily slid the four shells into the satchel.

'Oh, this is mine now,' Emily said from behind me. I turned to find her looking at a spiked mace, about three feet long and quite heavy, but looking as if it would be extremely painful. She let the pipe fall and we continued on.

And as we came to a large, open room, the Medallion began to hum. Putting the axe away, I took the double-barrel out and aimed it around. Emily lifted her mace labouriously, ready to swing it. I didn't doubt that it was better than all my weapons, but she deserved it. Nearly no complaints the whole trip: and I'd been complaining the whole time.

I was brought out of introspective by a cave-in of the ceiling before us, and from the dust, there came a monstrous form in the shape of a man. The Medallion was humming like crazy.

_Alright. Ben. Here goes._

I didn't have a sword, but I'd bring him down and we'd run by. Raising the double-barrel to my eye level, I took aim at the ghost before me. And I don't think that anything could have truly prepared me for what I was about to fight.


	25. Chapter 25: Tiamat

Chapter 25: Tiamat

Dust.

When the dust cleared and the light fell upon the dreaded beast, the fascade of strength I'd gathered up dissipated instantly. First off, this ghost, too, carried a weapon: a long, stone hammer; and, since it was Ben, his figure was muscular, tall and strong. But that wasn't the worst part of the whole encounter. Even considering how Ben died, I'd never fathomed the possibility that such a thing would happen. To look upon him was to fill my soul with despair.

Ben had died in concrete, and now his skin was utterly encased in it.

There could be no hitting him. The concrete may suffer a pickaxe or jackhammer, but a pistol, rifle, double-barrel, mace, hammer, axe, or anything else that I had, wouldn't possibly faze him. I almost cried, but put on a bravado as I reached in the bag for the hammer. It had a pick side.

I stowed the axe away, since it would probably break if I hit Ben with it hard enough. Away I put the double-barrel also, since I doubted that buckshot would truly be effective. The first moments we had before the ensuing battle, I was too confused to make a plan. This wasn't supposed to happen. How could there be an enemy like _this_?

There was a sick crack and a chinking noise – I hadn't even seen Emily wind up her mace and send it flying into Ben's thigh, the mace's spikes piercing slightly, but the steel ball being repelled by the concrete. This was all the time I needed. Rearing back, I shouted 'Move!' Emily moved.

The hammer sent a deep whistle through the air as the pick end swung through the air, sickly piercing the concrete with a detestably high-pitched sound. Ben didn't seem fazed as he raised the club to smite me. Once more Emily rescued me with a vicious blow to Ben's head, which stunned him a little. Ripping the hammer out, I ran away from Ben.

'Come on!' I yelled as I sprinted down the hallway as fast as I could. Pyramid could be fazed, for God's sake, but Ben, he was invulnerable. Even if I did knock him down, I had no sword to trap him with. For the first time, I was truly powerless.

I waited for Emily at a bend, and Ben was gaining quickly on her. I looked around for some way to combat him. In the corner, completely out of place, was an item that seemed a godsend at the moment.

_Is that a fucking jackhammer?_

Grabbing it, I ran forward, screaming 'Out of the way!' to Emily. She crouched to the side as Ben took a swipe at her, and the rock drill started up with a jolt. Upon reaching Ben, I thrust the rock drill into his thigh, the rapid and forceful vibrations slamming the handle into my chest as it drilled away the concrete. Ben was moved back, hitting the wall and allowing myself to truly demolish him. Unfortunately, the drill wasn't long enough to pin him. Was I wasting my time?

I then noticed that the end of the jackhammer was shaped triangularly, like a sword. This _was_ the Sword of Obedience. The blade must have gotten through, because Ben instantly cried out and fell to the ground, writhing. Emily stood up, shaking, before hitting him once more with the mace, forcefully upon his groin. I almost joined in when I heard a bang.

On impulse, I jumped forward a little, crouching, hearing the bullet whizz above my head. Looking right, I saw Ralph, in black, with a revolver and a long, circular piece of wood, at the far end, aiming right at us. He then cursed and ran to us. Thoughts of engaging him flew through my mind, but were dispelled by the notion that I was outmatched in terms of weapons: he had a revolver and a long club. I had three guns, yes, all of which I were saving on a different enemy. The pistol for monsters, the double-barrel for anything the pistol can't handle, and the rifle for the Pyramids.

Realising that he contolled everything in this world, he was probably just toying with us, placing two Pyramid Heads at the end of the hallway behind us, thus cornering us.

_Well bravo Ralph. You're still gonna get owned before I get to the Pyramids._

Grabbing the fire axe, I moved me and Emily around the bend, out of Ralph's sight. I set the bag down and raised the axe to strike him when he came around the bend.

Terror.

The sole emotion dominated my mind, until I realised that, in a way, I was better. I'd fought horrible abominations, countless ones, and all he'd done that I knew of was kill nineteen people. Probably by sneaking up on them, by shooting them in the head, or some other cowardly method. Terror was replaced by a new emotion, one I was beginning to get used to.

Confidence.

Ralph came around the bend.

My axe met the top of his head in a wicked hack.

With a single yelp, Ralph buckled, twitching on the ground. The axe had been wedged in his _brain_, no human could survive that blow. But Ralph cursed and seemed to _swoon_, merely fell asleep, entered hibernation. Taking the axe, we moved on. The hallway was long, narrowing, until it led to a sole door with the red crest on it. Opening it, we found a far cry from what we expected.

There were braziers shining with blue flame surrounding a rectangular room, with a pit around the edges of the floor and a grey, steel platform extending out before us. In the centre was a monstrosity if ever I'd seen one, a beast upon six legs, what seemed a cross-breed of those lizards and those sewer monsters.

It was blue-green, and with scales, gills, and a pointed head with a large maw fitted with many rows of razour-like teeth. I was reminded of a dragon, and thus, reminded of the entity Tiamat, symbolic of primordial chaos. It made sense, I suppose. Instantly, I pulled out the double-barrel, and strode forward, telling Emily to stand back.

From the darkness there came many forms, dancing around the room with loud shrieks and hollars, phantom sahagin shadows running and twirling along the walls with grotesque grace as the smell of sulphur ascended from the pit and from the behemoth before me. The darkness swelled around me, and a discordant, high-pitched scratching noise flooded the area, echoing. These horrors, coupled with the insanely ugly monster before me, made it hard to concentrate.

The shadows danced around mockingly, and yet, they inspired me, telling me what I had to do. I weaved my own dance, strafing around the room as the monster spun on me, lashing out with a tentacle that popped out from a scale. Cocking the barrels of the shotgun, I loosed one cartridge – like I said before, it was no longer buckshot, but a _slug_, ripping into the monster's scales and bringing a painful cry.

I smiled – and in arrogance, stopped strafing, lifting the shotgun to deal what should be a fatal blast to the thing's skull. Its tail swiped my legs from under me as the beast bore down upon me, forcing me on my back and desperate. As Tiamat's maw descended upon me, I rolled out of the way, under her, and came out on her right side, loosing the last slug as I reached into my shirt pocket, pulling out two more. The slug blasted a hole into the thing's shoulder, forcing it back as it cried out in pain. I slid the slugs in and was about to fire when the thing's claw came out, slicing my chest with cold bone and further ripping my shirt. I screamed in pain as the thing knocked the double-barrel across the room, landing before Emily.

I clenched my fists and crouched, thinking quickly for a way out of my predicament. Fortunately, Emily knew how to operate Blake's shotgun, and a slug blasted into what I believe was its anus. It shrieked in horror, rage in its eyes – the shadows danced faster, the hum rising in intensity, an air raid siren slowly coming into existence from all around us. The intensity of the fight grew as the shadows raced in their unholy dance around the wall, the braziers' flames roaring up in applause – or maybe in opposition – to the newfound situation, me, unarmed, with Tiamat about to pounce.

A loud thud, followed by Emily's scream, came to my ears, then the clash of wood and metal against the ground. A resonating bang came forth then, then metal bouncing off the walls and drilling into Tiamat. The beast, about to pounce on me, fell forth, roaring. Blake's double-barrel had discharged, probably saving my life.

Having no time to think of divine intervention, I leapt upon Tiamat's head and sprinted up its back, slimy and cold, and, as it twisted and tried to knock me off with its tail, I spied the double-barrel. Pulling out two more slugs, I leapt onto the hard, metallic floor, almost landing on the shotgun – grabbing the weapon, I quickly inserted the slugs and cocked both barrels. Biting my lip to stem a scream, I spun on my back to see Tiamat's maw descending upon me.

'David!' came Emily's voice from somewhere I couldn't discern, for my eyes were closed, and my whole body shook. Death, the entity I'd escaped so many times – Death, the entity I'd hoped for so many times – was so near I could feel its cold grip. I should have just resigned, for what _could_ I do? The maw was right there, about to clench my body in its strong jaws and consume me, all in the span of about ten seconds. But I didn't resign.

_Dear God . . . I'm not ready. I'm not ready to die._

Then something happened.

In my horrible fear, in my shaking spasm, in my mindless terror, my body subconsciously pulled a fast one. Somehow, in my seizure-like, spasmic vibration, my finger, numb, had depressed both triggers of the double-barrel.

Facing the damned beast's maw.

The roar was astounding so close to my ears. The blast of light against my eyelids stirred my mind. The movement in my hands forced me to open my eyes.

The fucking beast's face was_ gone_.

The shells had been buckshot, not slugs, for Tiamat thrashed round headless, its neck streaming blood all over me as it stumbled off the edge. In one movement, the shadows ceased their dance, falling and fading into nothingness – the braziers died as a large, fluorescent light flickered on, spilling the room in simple, white light.

There is a feeling one gets when they escape death, pain, or extreme fear; a feeling that rushes over them, not unlike touching the wire of a galvanic battery — yet it is not a feeling of relief. It is not euphoria, ectasy, elation – nor is it sadness, depression, or the like — or even humour. Truth is, it is indescribable. One can only understand it by experiencing it firsthand – even then, one only knows it, they do not _understand_ it, per say. That feeling rocked me like nothing else, and I had to sit.

The experience truly changed me. This battle had a profound effect on me. Hesitating one moment could bring about death, making one mistake could bring the ruin of all I'd worked for. My arrogance nearly cost me my life. Never again though. I'd stay calm, I'd stay rational, and I wouldn't claim victory before my foe hit the ground.

Emily's touch was warm compared to my own – I was freezing, utterly freezing, more-so than the clock tower. She helped me up, and despite the cold, drake blood that was upon me, as well as my own, warm blood from the beast's claws, – hugged me. I, instead, gave her a large kiss, so grateful for the chance to do so once more.

She broke down, and I held her as tight as I could as we walked to the exit. 'You,' she said, 'you almost died, Dave. I couldn't – I couldn't move . . .'

'It's okay,' I said forcing a small laugh. 'I'm not dead, not yet. It'll take more than a dragon to bring me down while I got –'

I looked down at the double barrel. The barrels wouldn't close, having hit the steel ground forcefully as I pulled the final blast. Blake's shotgun was broken. Yet, it'd served a final purpose in disposing of the monster. I cast it away, along with all the shotgun shells.

_Thanks, Blake._

'Emily,' I said, feeling bold enough. 'That's Blake's shotgun.'

'I know. I never said anything. I recognised it the first time you pulled it out, and just now, I saw _BT_ carved on the barrel.'

'Okay,' I whispered as we opened the door.

The stairway was drastically different. Instead of a bending stair with a railing, this was a simple, stone stairway, unsupported, heading down into shadows. A long incandescent light followed it about ten feet above. We continued slowly.

A loud air siren blared endlessly around us, growing in volume and quality as we spied a large slab of stone at the bottom of the stairs. Stepping off, we came to a large section of a wall, with a single, wooden door before us.

Taking a breath and smiling, I twisted the knob, looking at Emily, who smiled back.

We'd finaly reached the bottom.


	26. Chapter 26: Truth

Chapter 26: Truth

Light.

Upon opening the door, the first thing I noticed was that it was bright inside. The second thing I noticed was a living room to the left, and a hallway that led to a kitchen – along the hallway was a closet, as well as one beside the front door and another one further down in the hallway – there was a door on the right, just before the hallway. At the end, I saw the rail for a set of stairs leading up. My breath got caught in my throat, and I coughed.

Because . . .

'This is my house,' I said stupidly, because Emily had been inside my house. 'Well, it's the same format, but . . .' Upon examining it, I saw that there was a table in the living room against the wall, with a chair and writing equipment. Instead of my computer, there was a shelf with a vase on it; my TV and radio were gone, the TV replaced by a different kind, an old Magnavox with a Super Nintendo on the floor – the radio was a victrola – my couch was replaced by a stiff love-seat. And lastly, the curtains were jet black instead of a deep crimson, which was my favourite colour.

'. . . all my stuff is . . . gone.' Upon reexamination, the curtains were only black and white because everything _else_ was black and white. It was like some old 50s movie. In some places, there was a Holy Candle, and on the table there was a Saint Medallion. I stuffed it in my pocket.

'Why is your house . . . here?'

'Well . . .' I tried to think of an explanation. 'I guess I . . . don't know.'

I took a step forward, holding Emily's hand for my benefit more so than hers. I let go and tried the door to my basement – sealed. I opened the closet where the first hole had appeared, the one that stayed in the house — nothing. The laundry room didn't open either. The closet with the other kind of 'hole' was open, and the hole was there. Part of me was tempted to go through, to see what would happen. Instead, I returned to the living room.

First of all, I checked the desk – there were many blank notepads, but a few had writing on them. Instantly I remembered that Thomas lived here before him.

_I'm in Thomas's house. That . . . that's not even possible. I went back in time? No, that's stupid. Then again, everything else doesn't make much sense._

I picked one note up and ushered Emily here. She sat on the love-seat as I read the first one.

'_Ralph Derecks was born in Silent Hill to unknown parents; it is presumed that the mother died during birth, and the father killed himself, because the night after Ralph was found, a Mr. John Lemeler was found in his residence in Blue Creek Apartments, having killed himself with a .38 Special._ _This may be unrelated, but I speculate otherwise, because Mr. Lemeler had been dating a one Elizabeth Merol, who was found dead in on the floor of their residence on Bachman Rd, with an aneurysm. Derecks was discovered by a member of "The Order" named Albert Derecks – thus the name was spawned, though his true name should be Ralph Lemeler or Ralph Merol._

'_Albert Derecks took him to the Order, showing that the boy had 'God in him'. Ralph grew up with the warped Cult beliefs, and befriended a boy named Walter Sullivan. Sullivan and Derecks were both very quiet and introverted – but their paths took very different turns. Sullivan remained at the 'Wish House', a twisted orphanage that taught the Cult's beliefs; Derecks, however, was excessively violent and apathetic_. _I honestly believe that Ralph was born without the ability to feel empathy and sympathy, pity and remorse. Thus, I pity him a little._

'_Derecks was so violent and spiteful that he was sent to a Water Prison, a truly horrible place. There, he observed a guard named Andrew DeSalvo giving Walter Sullivan water with leeches in it. This fueled an undying hatred for the Cult (formed by his brotherly love for Sullivan). He staged a breakout, ripping a steel pipe from a broken water line and killing a guard, then taking the guard's pistol and breaking the other kids out. The event ended in every guard of the prison being killed, except Andrew DeSalvo, who was on leave._

'_Derecks was only six._'

'_SIX!!?_' Emily cried, visibly shaken.

'This psycho's been killing since he was six . . .' I said, absorbing it all in. 'This can't be a human being. No human being can . . . God . . .'

I had to read once more. I picked up another note.

'_The guards of that prison are what I believe spawned those red demons that carry weapons. But I digress._

'_Derecks was sent to a foster home (the parent asked no questions), to a Mr. Mick Valter, who lived in Ashfield, in the Reynolds-Ambol building working as a janitor. Derecks and Valter did not feud, as expected. They spoke little and seldom. Valter moved to Silent Hill and enrolled Derecks in Midwich Elementary, where he was also excessively violent. It was during this time that Derecks snuck out and attempted to run away – only to find Sullivan on the train to Ashfield, now both ten years old. Walter told Derecks about what he saught to do: waken his 'Mother'. Sullivan never told Derecks that he thought his mother was Room 302 of South Ashfield Heights, an apartment building in South Ashfield._

'_What proceeded were the cases that were, in truth, Sullivan's attempts at "The 21 Sacraments"._

'_Derecks assumed Walter meant "The Holy Mother" mentioned in the Cult's Bible, which would rid the world of evil and usher in paradise. He made an oath to Sullivan that, if Sullivan failed somehow, Ralph would try himself. The two parted, and never saw each other in life once more._

'_So Derecks's life returned to "normal", until he met –_'

My eyes widened, and my heart stopped. '_–Emily Callel, student at Midwich. Ralph thought that he'd fallen in love, and since then, planned to make Emily the Mother Reborn._'

Emily said nothing – she just bowed her head, hand against her forehead, eyes closed. Swallowing, I continued.

'_It was when he was thirteen that Ralph discovered that he was . . ._' I was honestly thunderstruck by this sentence. Not that anything was wrong with it, but I never deemed Ralph . . .

'What?' Emily asked, looking up, her eyes red from silent weeping.

'_. . . Ralph discovered that he was a homosexual. Unfortunately, everyone else discovered it too, and in a largely homophobic school, it was more than frowned upon. Derecks was jumped in the bathroom of the school, and yet he overpowered the attackers, breaking one's nose, crushing another's testicles, gouging two's eyes out and fracturing one's wrist. He left one with the cold message: "Noone can stop me now."_

'_Due to this, he spent time in juvenile detention – when released, he dropped out of school and ran away, working in the Central Ashfield Clock Tower. He lived in an abandoned construction site for the duration of his childhood._

'_Sullivan was thwarted in his attempt of "The 21 Sacraments" by Henry Townshend and Eileen Galvin. Grieving for his friend, Derecks began "The 21 Blessings", which differ from the Sacraments only in the fact that the names of its victims. Thus, you are reading this note._'

'Wow,' I said. 'This guy led one screwed up life. The world wasn't tender on him.'

'I . . . poor Ralph . . .' Emily said, seemingly surprised. 'After all he's done, I still feel . . . sorry for him.'

Even I felt pangs of guilt for the man, raised in one screwed up environment with the most screwed up people. He never had a chance at a normal life, he went down the only road truly presented to him: violence and hatred for the world that left him for dead.

There were still a few more notes.

'_I refuse to leave this house. I refuse, I won't, it's taking a toll on my sanity. The hole is sealed up by my own efforts, and I've placed Holy Candles around the house to ward off the evil while I spill all the knowledge I have of these events upon paper . . . I just heard a clunk downstairs._ '

'_The candles are running low, and I'm resorting to my Medallions, but even so, I can't last forever in here. I'm out of food, out of defence, out of hope – I tried to get out again, but once more, my labours were fruitless._'

'_The candles are gone. My hope is too – the monsters have overrun the top floor, and only the kitchen and the living room remain clean; but even so, it won't last forever._'

'_For God's sake . . ._'

'_Help me . . ._'

There were no more notes with writing upon them. I joined Emily on the couch, and she seemed scared. As soon as I sat down, she put her head on my shoulder and fell asleep. I almost followed, but . . .

_Rise_.

A voice echoed through the house – or maybe through my head, I never figured it out. I gently laid Emily on the couch, and stood, gripping the axe tightly. Stepping down the hallway, I looked up the stairs, feeling myself drawn to it. Part of me was utterly terrified to climb the stairs, and part of me was dreadfully curious. So I ascended.

To my right was my bathroom – to my left was my closet – and before me was my bedroom. Stepping in my bathroom, I looked in the mirror at my reflection. My face was stained with blood, with the skin under my eyes wrinkled and sagging, dark with no sleep and stress. The gash across my chest was still stinging me – the spear wound in my shoulder wasn't deep, but it looked ugly. I was bruised, tired and stressed.

Sighing, I looked into the sink, resting a moment before I entered the bedroom. The bed was different, made neatly, and there weren't clothes strewn about the dresser. The window curtains were neat, unlike mine, which were wrinkled, and the whole room showed an air of cleanliness. I sat on the bed, hands on my knees, just reflecting on the day. I was about to fall back and sleep when I saw movement in the corner of my eye.

Instantly my body jolted forward, and holding the axe, I pressed my body close to the dresser, swallowing and shaking unwillingly. Slowly stepping sideways, I leapt into the hallway, axe raised, to find nothing there. Feeling like an idiot, I lowered the axe and sighed.

'Welcome.'

I screamed and spun around, hand on the axe, heart beating wildly. There, in the bedroom, facing me, was a man, clad in a suit and tie – his hair was short and gave me the feeling that it was blonde, but I couldn't tell. His eyes were black, and his face in an empty frown, like that of a man with nothing. Like the ghosts, he must have come out of the ceiling, because black goo stuck on the ceiling just above him.

'Who are you?' I asked axe in both hands, head behind mine, poised to strike.

'Do you really not know?' there was no sarcasm, just blunt disappointment. I lowered the axe a little and stepped forward one step.

'Thomas?'

'Well met,' the man said, bowing and smiling a little. 'I am Thomas Iridan, writer for the _Ashfield Informer_. Victim number fifteen, Despair.'

'What do you want?' I asked as I entered the bedroom, stepping towards the window.

'I'm not here to hurt you David,' he said calmly. 'I've been waiting for you to reach the bottom – we must speak.'

'Why would I want to talk to you?' I asked. This was a _ghost_, and I hated them. If he pulled anything, I'd be ready.

'If I wanted to kill you, I'd have done so when you and Emily were almost sleeping. Now listen to me.'

Slowly, I leaned the axe against the wall and relaxed, but was ready to grab it if he tried anything. 'Shoot.'

'By now, you may have realised that Derecks is immortal. You can not kill him through strength of arms – alone. Only with the weapons of the Devil can his protection be shattered. There are only three, and I know that you've seen them before. In time, you'll figure it out.

'The Mother is slowly gaining power, and in the Uttermost Depths, she is close to awakening. Ralph has delayed too long, and the Mother will soon be born in this world, if you don't hurry. Take the placards I received from my journeys – they may help you.'

On the bed suddenly appeared a red, blue, purple, and yellow tablet: _Anguish, Treachery, Darkness, _and_ Heresy._ I stepped forward and grabbed them, having left my bag downstairs. Anguish depicted a man on a torture device; Treachery depicted a man stabbing another in the back; Darkness was utterly blank; and Heresy depicted a man before an altar, being pointed at by a figure upon the altar. I looked back to Thomas.

'What do I do? Where do I go?'

'Go back to your house, and take the key from the Altar. Enter the Necropolis, and search for the key to Assumption.'

'Where is the Necropolis?'

'You'll have to figure that out for yourself, David.' Thomas faded into nothingness. 'Until next time . . .'

After a moment of retrospect, I descended the stairs to find Emily coming down the hallway. I walked past her and put the placards in the bag – I grabbed the axe and prepared to go through the hole in the closet.

'What happened?' Emily said from the stairs. 'Where did you go?'

'I met Thomas,' I said as I prepared myself to go into the hole. I then, on a whim, took three unlit candles from a nearby table. Putting them in the bag, I faced the hole. 'He told me I had to go to my house, take the key from the Altar, and enter the Necropolis to search for the key to Assumption. I don't know what he's talking about either, but . . .'

Emily walked towards me, and looked in the closet. She gasped, and stepped back, clutching my arm. At first I didn't understand, but I slowly got it.

'You see it too?'

'Yeah,' she breathed, putting her hand to it, inside it, touching the inside edges. I told her to follow me, and I crawled in. After about a minute of crawling, we found ourselves in hallway of my _actual_ house. There was no falling asleep – the hole led straight to my house. Emily saw the chains on my door and gasped, but I was quickly in motion, crawling into the space under my house and coming to the shrine and the 'Door to Assumption'.

After a little inspection, I discovered the shrine had a moveable top. Almost in disbelief, I pushed it off and there, the sole item inside, was a key: a skeleton face with fangs on one end. I crawled back to the house, and Emily was waiting.

'What did you —'

I held up the key, examining it, and she looked at it too. It seemed we both had the same thought at the same time, because after our gaze fell on what we believed the key went to, we looked to each other.

The chains on the front door.


	27. Chapter 27: The Necropolis

Chapter 27: The Necropolis

Hope.

The key slid in the padlock and turned in a perfect match, instantly allowing the chains to be removed. Fortunately for me, they, in no time, removed themselves, absolutely bursting from the wall, and falling limp on the ground. My hand shakily gripped the knob, until my mind warned against going outside in a blood-stained and ripped set of clothing. Asking Emily to go on ahead, I sprinted up the stairs, went to my closet, and threw on a spare work shirt, identical to the one I'd been wearing. I put new pants on, and washed my face, though I didn't bother with my hair. I even sprayed body spray on – the shower could wait until I'd been outside for a moment.

Still feeling as if I was dreaming, I splashed my face with cold water, blinking twice in the mirror. The first blink ended in normalcy, seeing my own reflection. The second blink suddenly made the medallion hum, and my eyes did not see myself in the mirror. They saw Blake.

At first I didn't believe what I was seeing, until Blake leaned out of the mirror, inches from my face. His hands grabbed my shirt collar, and pulled me to the mirror, holding me there as he looked at me.

The Medallion was humming wildly, and I knew it would break very soon. I tried to will myself to move, to break the icy gaze of Blake Thurle. The bastard was stuck in the ground at the Clock Tower, wasn't he?

And then the form morphed into Ralph Derecks.

The Medallion broke.

Everything turned black.

Suddenly I felt a blunt pain against my forehead as my legs buckled and my face hit the sink, and them my body hitting the ground. I sat up frantically and looked around. My Medallion was undamaged – had I dreamed that?

Holding my head, I stood and ran out of the bathroom, needing to get out of the house. Coming down the stairs, I turned swiftly to see Emily on the couch, crying uncontrollably. I took her side and pulled her head to mine gently.

'What happened?' I asked softly yet forcefully. Emily didn't respond, though I could see she was trying. 'What's wrong, Emma?' After no response, I stood and walked quickly to the front door, fearing what I already knew was going to happen. I twisted the knob, and pulled the door open.

There was darkness, and my small cement path jetting out to the street, and the street lamps illuminating fragments of the block – the air was dry and cold, like many nights in Ashfield. Going on these things alone, one believed that they were in South Ashfield.

The street, however, was wire mesh. The grass was a bright red that writhed to and fro; the sounds of rust-monsters could be heard from the streets, as well as a generator noise. My mailbox was there, a small item in the trajectory of my flashlight beam – that was the only other thing that would make you even imagine being in Ashfield.

I fell to my knees, then onto my hands, not daring to think. I heard Emily sob, and began to cry myself. Toughening it up, however, I stood and grabbed the axe, walking out the door. This was some strange replica of Ashfield, it seemed – there was no life other than those monsters, and possibly a ghost or two. Part of me didn't want to accept it, but the other part had to:

_This_ was the Necropolis, the City of the Dead.

The key to that 'Assumption' door, the key that would take me to . . . well, I figured it'd take me to an exit, or to where Ralph was lurking. And seeing as how every moment here was sapping my energy, I'd have to make haste.

I turned to Emily; 'You comin'?' I asked. Emily stopped crying, looking up at me as if I was insane.

'You're going out there?' she asked.

'I have to. This may be our only way out. Plus, if it isn't, it's better than just waiting to die here.'

Emily didn't speak, she just shook her head. 'I can't go any further, David, I'm sorry. My leg's killing me, my arm too – plus, I'm so exhausted.'

'Don't worry. You just stay here and rest. I'll be back as soon as I can.' When the door shut, I got a horrible feeling, like the sound was of the coming of doom – I tried to block it, but it wouldn't go away. I checked the mailbox for anything useful: there was a letter, and three small, silver-tipped bullets. Stuffing the bullets in my pocket, I tore the note open and read the contents.

Good luck. I wish I could have aided you more, but I'm not as young as I used to be, and though we've never met, I'm thankful that you (if you're reading this) have stood up to him. I never had a chance, David. You do.

—Thomas K. Iridan.

Something in that note made me feel solemn, and then something made me feel happy. It's hard to describe – Thomas's story was a horrible one, trapped in his house to be tormented by Ralph, his only hope in a guy he's never met, and his only way to help by relaying his knowledge before he died. But he didn't seem to have any _ill_ feelings towards me, didn't seem to envy me (though I know he had to). And yet, what he was saying was too much. Why did the world have to be thrust into my hands all of a sudden?

It all made no _damn_ sense. So, in turn, I had to change the subject. Pulling out one of the bullets I'd just found, I examined it.

It was a 9mm round, compatible with the pistol, which was safely tucked in my pocket with three spare mags. Champion was still slung over my shoulder, two rounds in the gun itself, eight spares left in the satchel. I wondered if I'd ever get a chance to kick Pyramid Head's ass – eventually, I figured. The fire axe was light enough to use one handed, though I prefered two handed, because improved aim and handling. But it was awkward to use two handed, or even one handed. But, since I'd left my bag in the house, these three weapons were the only defence I had from the monsters.

Turning to the street, I looked right. Like last time, there was nothing beyond my house, just sheer blackness. I turned to the left. The street ran down a ways – I remembered that it would be broken once it reached Rowl Street and how to get to Truman. Turning to the door that I'd kicked down, I passed through without incident, coming out on Truman and sprinting to Rowl. Turning, I entered Emily's house out of curiosity. Everything was normal, except there was a small box of rifle shells on the table. I now had fourteen, enough to to some real damage.

Leaving the house, I decided to continue down Rowl Street – I sprinted as fast as I could, ultimately coming to a bunch of pieces of wood, stretching out to a chain-link platform. Carefully I walked it; the boards creaked and shuddered. It seemed forever until I stepped onto the chain-link, and once there, I found a large set of cathedral stairs leading up. If anywhere, the 'Key to Assumption' would be up these stairs. But, as I said, there was a sense I got when _they_ were around. Gripping Champion, I ascended the stairs.

They climbed high, and when I came to the top, what I found wasn't what I expected.

There were no stone floors – still a grate, that lead through a narrow hallway and two arches, spilling into a wider room that I couldn't see clearly. My Medallion was humming, so I figured ghosts were nearby. My axe was in my left hand as my right steadied Champion, so in case a ghost appeared, I'd whack it and run.

At length I came into the wider room – everything went black, and came on. Ethereal voices spilled from all around me, bouncing off the walls. The first was a male voice, deep, and somewhat bitter. The second was a female's, light and soothing yet tired and worn.

'Damn condom,' the male voice whispered harshly into the air.

'I wanted this baby,' came the female's, matter-of-factly. She cried out, and panted.

'Well I didn't!' the male voice scolded angrily. 'I can't support this thing!'

'Don't call my baby a _thing_, John.' The female was getting angry.

'Well Liz, it's my "baby" too! And I for one don't want the responsibility! So heave it and go!'

'John . . . we're keeping this baby.'

'Liz, don't,' John said, and I could visualise a sneer, a scowl. 'Don't tell me what we're doing! I'm my own damn man!'

The woman cried out louder, and began to take deep gasps. A horrible, wet, slushing noise could be heard, and a baby crying.

'Oh God, it's ugly!' John cried. 'Well Liz, get ready; let's go.' A silence could be heard. 'Liz, damnit, move!'

Still nothing was heard. 'Liz?' John asked, and then he drew a sharp breath. 'Liz?' It was louder, more desperate, on the verge of tears. 'No, Liz, come on, wake up!' Still nothing. Sobbing could he heard for the longest time. The baby cried a horrible wail, desperate for some attention. John growled. There was the click as of a revolver, and the baby's cries were muffled.

'You took her from me, you little bastard!' John's voice, cracked and harsh, said. 'You took Liz from me! You killed your own mother! Damnit, you've taken the only thing I still have in this world! To Hell with you!'

There was a forceful bumping sound, followed by 'Hello? Is everything alright in here?' John gasped, and growled as the revolver clicked and a window broke. The sound of a door being forced open echoed – I then heard no more.

The lights came on – in a trance, I ran the distance of another hallway, and the room pattern continued for a while. As I ran, I could hear children's voices in the same manner as I had in the previous room. One was young, solemn and sad – one was young, too, but bitter and hateful – and one was a man's voice, rough and malicious.

'How do you like that, you little fuck?' came the man's voice. 'This'll teach you to play in the woods without permission!'

'I didn't mean to go into the –' the sad voice pleaded, but a belt cracking was heard, and a cry of pain.

The bitter voice said loudly 'God will see your soul to Hell, Zach.'

'You shut up,' Zach said angrily. 'You don't have permission to speak!'

'What are you going to do, hit me? I'm only six – you're fifty. What a big man.'

Zach must have struck at the bitter voice, because the belt was heard, and the bitter voice grunted. 'Keep your mouth shut, Ralph!' Zach yelled.

The solemn voice pleaded with the guard. 'Please, sir, just let us go—'

'Sullivan, damnit, keep your trap _closed_!' Zach screamed as the belt cracked.

Then there was a loud whistle, and a sickening crack. I could hear Zach grunt, and presumed he hit the ground. He growled, but it quickly turned into a 'No!' and a yelp as another crack was heard. Then I heard a click, and footsteps – then three bangs, the sound of a corpse dropping, and screaming.

'Ralph, how did you—' Sullivan asked.

'Not now, Walt,' came Ralph's still-bitter reply.

Suddenly I found myself colliding with a solid object, and found it was a door. Opening it, it led to a very wide, octagonal room. One side had a ladder leading up – sprinting to it, I climbed up it. Reaching the top, there was a pedestal with a large key on it. Carved at the end was 'Assumption'. My heart beat wildly as I moved back to the ladder . . . then I heard a loud clunk behind me. Spinning around, I saw him.

Ralph Derecks.

With a fist into my gut, I sailed back and over the ladder, landing on the grate with a thud. I felt all my breath forced out, but worse, I felt a strange presence. A big aura of hate and fear, despair and anger, suddenly enveloped the whole room. The temperature rose greatly, and my head began to ache as I crawled faintly to my knees.

A strong grip seized me, and threw me with a laugh into the ladder. My stomach hit it hard, sending me onto my frontside, utterly drained of energy. I willed my head to face my attacker.

There, before me, were _three_ Pyramid Heads and Ralph Derecks at their point. Coughing, I slid to my knees and then stood up, looking around for the axe. It was on the ground beside me – I stooped and leaned it against the wall, raising Champion to bear.

'I won't kill you, David,' Ralph said as he pulled out a steel pipe and a pistol. 'But I will wound you and hand you to my servants, and when Emily is killed, _then_ I'll kill you.'

I came so close to pulling the trigger, but at that moment, something happened. A loud air siren blared everywhere, enveloping the whole room in its hideous sound. Ralph stopped short, as did the Pyramids. They all looked up, and Ralph smiled before he scowled.

'She cries,' he said as he took a step back. 'Much as a baby does as it is born. You just wait, David. She will consume Emily herself, and then I'll give you to her. Just don't disappoint me!' The four took off out the doors. I fell to my knees, stifling the horrible noise and the gripping headache that consumed my thought. Panting, I fell to the ground and closed my eyes.

I saw no more.


	28. Chapter 28: Final Destination

Chapter 28: Final Destination

Pain.

It surged through my body as it awoke rudely – the siren still blared, though a little more distantly, with its old intensity. When my eyes opened, everything was shaded red for moments, until they adjusted. With vision came even more pain, but now there was noticeable ambient light, so that made it easier. At length, I stood up, with absolutely no memory of who or where – or even what – the hell I was. Then it all flooded back to me in a moment.

_Fuck. What now? Oh yeah, that key._

I pulled out the Key to Assumption, and examined it once more. The key was so damn evil – at least, that was the aura it was giving off. Thinking seemed to magnify the pain, so I willed myself to move. Grabbing my axe, securing my pistol and double-checking Champion, I began my way through the hallways again.

I cannot say what occurred during my trip back to my house – for there is no memory. When walking, I was in a trance, going by sheer instinct rather than by memory. The smell of hard water was the only thing I truly can recall – snatches of monsters, and images of my axe hewing their heads off; but other than that, it's all a blur, up to the point when I got in my house.

The first thing I noticed was Emily's absence.

'_She will consume Emily herself, and then I'll give you to her.' What does that mean? Does he mean the . . . Mother?_

I grabbed the duffel, and stuffed an emergency medical kit in my pocket – there was nothing else that I could carry with me that wouldn't be cumbersome, like the bag itself. I decided to leave the bag there, since I wouldn't be needing anything from it, now. The plank, the pipe, the golf clubs, the hammer, the food, drinks – nothing.

Upon my table there was a note, from Ralph I presumed, but really from Thomas. I had no idea what more he had to say, but I deemed it might help, so I endured the pain (the siren was still horribly loud).

_From where, we don't know – how, none can tell. The Cursed Mother has existed for centuries, waiting for an unlucky soul to conjure her. Sullivan was deceived by the Wish House, under the illusion that the Mother was in fact his birth mother. It almost ended in disaster, if not for Henry Townshend, who ultimately defeated Sullivan and spared the world from the Mother. But the Mother herself was not destroyed, sent back to the dark abyss from whence she came. So thus, Ralph is able to conjure her, too. And so it shall be if you just kill Ralph – but whether a good or bad fate, the Mother is in control now. She rules the realm, Ralph has no control over his own creation. Only by killing her while she still sleeps, in the uttermost depths of the World, can you escape this nightmare, and secure the world for the rest of its days._

I already intended to kill Ralph – killing a demon in its sleep wouldn't be so hard, right? I mean, the human can think, and fight back. At the time, I believed that a demon couldn't think, and it was utterly helpless while it slept. Damn was I wrong.

But at the moment, I made for the hole that lead to the Door, until I was stricken by an ordinary headache. I turned around to see the basement door had sprouted arms and a face, and was reaching for me while moaning. Lighting a candle under it, I went through the hole. Coming out, I approached the Door to Assumption. Hesitantly I slid the key inside the knob, and turned it. A loud snap came from the lock, and the door swung open to reveal . . .

. . . nothing.

There was a wall on the left, a wall on the right, a wall just ahead, and the wall where the door was – but there was no floor. This door would be absolutely useless to me. Horrible sounds, thin and reverberating yet strong and loud, flooded the chamber that I was in. Something about this situation felt familiar. I then realised exactly what I stood before, and exactly what this was. For I'd been in this situation before, many times, in my own house.

This room itself was a hole.

Still, crawling horizontally is one thing – falling vertically is different. Yet I wasn't about to call it quits then. What was down this hole, I couldn't fathom, but I'd face it all the same. And if I died, well, then I had tried my best with what I had. If that wasn't enough, then so be it.

Gripping the axe tightly, I stepped back, hesitating, and, with a groan of protest, walked off the edge. The rush of air around me was exhilarating, and yet my heart pounded with such mortal terror never seen before in a human being. I closed my eyes, stifling the scream that happened anyway. The whole way down, until I passed out, I was screaming, in mad horror, and, in some way, in enjoyment. Then all went black, blacker than the darkest jet, and I could only think.

When at last I could open my eyes and move, I was face down on cold iron, but the air above me was superheated to the point of sweating. Standing, I moved forward through an orange tinted hallway, made purely of iron, yet with no ceiling. It was wide, but not enough for me to feel comfortable. Many timed it twisted, like a labyrinth, yet not a maze, for a maze has many directions to go – this had but one, and it ultimately led to a door, simple and blunt. I opened it, and found myself in an untinted room, with a single ladder jetting into darkness.

I climbed it, and it led to a small iron platform, with a large stretch of wood extending to another platform with a similar door. This door opened to another tinted hallway, only with a deeper orange, and less hot. Gripping the axe, I turned the first corner to find myself face to face with a Ripper. Swinging the axe on instinct, the scales collapsed as the thing charged at me, tumbling from the sheer force of my blow. I leapt over it, and kept running, to find myself in front of another one. One single blow I dealt, horizontal, to its neck, causing it to cripple slightly. Turning more corners, I found myself coming to another door.

There were two doors to my left and right, respectively, and a spiral staircase leading further down. I opened the left door to find an orange tinted atmosphere and many torture devices laid about a table. Wondering what the hell was using them, I left quickly. The other door yielded similar things, and I was forced to run down the stairs as quickly as possible horribly disturbed by the fresh blood and corpses.

The staircase lead to another hallway, only this time, there were ghosts. They were the normal kind, so I loaded the silver bullets into my handgun and fired at the first. It instantly went down, and didn't get back up. I then fired at the second, a woman in a wedding dress – she fell down and didn't rise. The third one was wearing a sombrero and had a wavy moustache, but its eyes were horrible – because they weren't there. Wanting rid of it, I fired and ran on. I only heard him hit the floor. Sliding the last clip in the gun, I barged in another door at the end of the hall.

I stood before a massive hole, as big as a house, with a single staircase leading down, so ominous that I shook as I began my descent. About sixty feet down, everything went black, and I found myself lifted off the ground.

Suddenly everything was bright again, and I was before two massive double-doors, pale red and horribly rusty. The floor was a pale blue, as were all the walls, and there was no way back. The only place to go in this rectangular room was through the door. Turning the knob, I threw the door open.

I came into an enormous circular room, with plain, blue walls, and a door on the other side. And approaching those doors were the Pyramids, bearing a womanly figure with a splint on her right arm. Anger flooded through me as I yelled as threateningly as I could and darted towards them, bringing Champion to my eye level.

Emily looked up weakly and called one word: 'Trap!'

I felt a horrible, crushing pain in my back that propelled me forward, falling on my stomach and sliding roughly across the floor. I was in the direct centre. Standing, I spun around to see Ralph there, a steel pipe and pistol in hand, smirking in victory. Behind me, I heard the Pyramid's stomps, and saw one standing about five metres from me, just like Ralph. Turning to Ralph, I raised the axe and lurched forward, yelling like a madman. Ralph dove to the side and swung the pipe viciously into my stomach, knocking the wind out of me. I continued, however, but dropped the axe and had to catch my breath when I stopped. Turning, I fingered Champion, eyeing my targets.

_There's still two more to deal with David. You have to be careful, here._

Ralph and Pyramid Head stood the same distance from me, beside each other, but each about fifteen feet from each other. Neither moved.

'David,' Ralph called, 'why must you resist me? I was hoping that, in despair, you'd give up, and allow the inevitable to occur. But it seems I underestimated your spirit – and your foolishness.'

'Ralph,' I said, adjusting my stance as to better reach Champion if I needed it, 'I'm not gonna let you get away with killing those people – I'm not going to let you get away for what you did to Thomas, Shaun, Blake, Ben, or Emily.'

'You think that you can stop me? The _Conjurer_!?' Ralph laughed hysterically, before throwing his arms up. 'I am immortal, David. You cannot win this fight. Throw your weapons down, and your death will be quick.'

In answer I lifted Champion to my chest, left arm holding the gun steady, right hand on the trigger.

Ralph chuckled slightly as he raised the pistol to the ceiling and the pipe pointed out, like a rapier in fencing. 'On guard, David.' The Pyramid and Ralph burst into motion, as well as I. This was it. I had finally done it.

This was the end.


	29. Chapter 29: The Dance of Death

Chapter 29: The Dance of Death

Sirens.

The air-raid siren blared nonstop, rapidly, in a wild battle-cry – but I did not take despair. I was past despair: if only for Emily's sake, I had to stay calm, and I had to calculate my movements. By some grace or luck I'd made it this far – I'd have to rely on myself now.

That, and two firearms.

Seeing as I had a strong hunting rifle in my hand, it made sense to use it first. Raising it, I aimed at Pyramid Head and cocked it. While in motion, I fired. That was the trick: constant motion. Stay still for any period of time, and be met with a bullet or spear.

Champion drilled through Pyramid Head's helmet – he cried a deep, throaty scream, and clutched at the wound. Pumping adrenaline, I closed in on him, cocking the rifle and releasing a final shell from Champion's frame. Letting the rifle fall, I reached back and pulled out the pistol. The Pyramid Head was quick to meet me, backhanding me in the jaw and forcing me back as I spun. Once more, bum luck saved me from falling down, and I managed to spin back to him, pumping two bullets into his lower-body.

Ralph had not been idle – he was currently approaching, about to swing the pipe. Realising that I couldn't faze him with bullets or any axe hit (not that I had the axe, of course), I bent down and rammed him with my shoulder straight into his gut. Of course, that didn't hurt him, but it stunned him long enough for me to dart away. The only thing I had a chance of killing was Pyramid Head – Ralph was ruled out from the beginning.

Sprinting, I swirved behind Pyramid Head and blasted at his back – my motion didn't make aiming easy, so two shots went stray – but the rest of the clip hit his exposed back. He bent over, in exreme pain, and began to cry out for Ralph's aid. Ralph was on his way. Enraged by circumstance and by this _thing_'s persistence in torturing me, I dealt a mighty kick to the centre of his back, forcing him onto his face; the helmet hit the ground pointedly, and sharply Pyramid Head's head snapped to the left as he thrashed about and tried to pick himself up.

Ralph's pipe swiped my shoulder, but the tip was serrated and cut the fabric of my shirt, as well as nicked my shoulder – but the skin didn't break. Sucking in a huge breath in relief, I darted for the axe, leaping and grabbing as I rolled. Standing, I dropped it and slid a fresh mag into my pistol, then pocketed the firearm and grabbed the axe once more.

Derecks was nearly upon me, pipe ready to swing. I met him with my axe to his pipe, knocking his weapon downward and giving me a little time to mildly (for my angle was awkward) elbow him in the jaw. As he staggered back, I wound up the axe and – with a primal roar – hacked his stomach. No blood came forth, and indeed no wound appeared, but the force knocked him down.

Realising that now may be the only time to do so, I rushed the Pyramid Head (who was standing and walking very slowly and labouriously). Winding up, I unleashed the axe into his back drawing a defeated cry as blood poured out. The spear fell from his grip. I grabbed its helmet and with all my might, forced it off. It revealed a weird, tattooed, bald monster with no eyes, yet still full of repressed anger and despair. Raising the pistol, I aimed it at his forehead and pulled the trigger thrice, loosing metallic fury into his head. His skull tore in half with each round, his brain matter spilling out onto the floor.

Then something happened.

The matter all disappeared, in a cloud of red smoke. Pyramid Head simply vanished, leaving with him a single cry of pain. Ralph let out a yelp of dismay, and stood idle, not five feet from me. Desperate, I raised the pistol and pumped five rounds into him – he barely flinched, and raised his own pistol. The last to rounds in the pistol I shot at his gun – the first one missed; the second one knocked it clear across the room. His face was priceless.

Jamming my last handgun clip in, I looked around frantically, in disbelief. I couldn't take him on if I couldn't hurt him! Realising that he had a good chance of killing me with that pipe alone, I grabbed the long spear wielded by Pyramid Head. Spinning back to him I held it out towards him, as if daring him to try it.

His face turned grave, instantly mortified as he backed up. That set off a spark in my head. He was _afraid _of the spear. Any idiot could figure this riddle out. With a cry, I chased after Derecks, spear out stretched to impale him. He stopped to pick up the pistol; just as he raised the pistol to shoot me, I impaled him in the shoulder with the spear.

A shockwave passed through his body as the spear disappeared, melting into him – the blackness of his clothing dissipated into normal jeans and a green jacket, with brown eyes. He choked as if on the verge of vomiting as he suddenly sucked in a deep breath, as if it was labourious. The siren grew to a wail, and I got a massive headache, which forced me to stagger backwards, spinning, and falling to my knees.

The siren quieted. Everything seemed to cease as I climbed to my feet, a little disoriented. Ralph stood swaying too, dropping the pipe, and looking at me with a confusion unlike any other I'd ever seen. Then he raised the pistol, and fired.

I dodged to the left, lifting my gun to eye level and pulling the trigger twice – one bullet missed, and one hit his left shoulder. He staggered back and shot once more – this time the bullet grazed my right shoulder, not breaking the skin though. Frantic, I pulled the trigger three more times: one hit his shoulder again, one hit his right hand, another hit his left leg.

The bullets were whizzing past me as I ran, finally reaching the edge of the room. In panic, I turned and lifted the pistol, pulling the trigger twice. Both shots missied. Calming down, I shot twice more. One hit Ralph in his knees, and the other in his hip – he cried out in agony. I wouldn't fire one more time, unless it was a sure kill, because taking him on with the axe was not a favourable situation.

Fortunately, Ralph was reloading.

I took off for him, sprinting as fast as I could.

He ejected the clip.

_Approaching _. . .

He lifted the new one.

_Almost there . . . _

He slammed it in.

_Shoot!_

His pistol was aimed right at my head as I aimed mine at his heart and pulled the trigger. The flash illuminated the damage the pistol did: sailing through his breastbone, drilling through the heart and gliding out the other side. His eyes drifted upward, his face twisted in silent agony – his frame fell backwards limply.

I dropped the pistol and caught my breath, looking down at my enemy as he died. Despite all he'd done, I had just killed a human being. An actual person, a rational – well maybe that's pushing it – man with thoughts and (a few) emotions. All those years of his life, all the events and all the memories, ended as pistol fired a bullet straight through his heart.

Ralph was gazing up, coughing blood, eyes tearing up; but through his pain, he saw something. I turned and looked around – there was nothing special. Ralph just smiled and looked upward, lifting his hand, stretching his fingers out to seize it.

'W—Walter . . .' he breathed, and his hand fell down. His chest moved no more, and his complexion paled. Exactly what he had seen, I didn't know, but it made him happy, and he was smiling, like a child in pain who has been comforted. The only thing I knew as I fell down and closed my eyes from exhaustion was this:

Ralph Derecks was dead.


	30. Chapter 30: The Mother

Chapter 30: The Mother

When I opened my eyes, it was all a blur, because the siren was still blaring, nonstop and at such a volume to drive a man mad. Rubbing my eyes, I sat up and looked around, still unsure as to where I was. I hadn't passed out – I had simply phased-out from this world momentarily. My pistol lay empty on the ground next to Ralph Derecks' corpse – Champion was still slung around my shoulder, and the fire axe was on the ground nearby. Collecting my items, I slid four fresh rounds into my rifle, and looked at around for what to do next. Opposite where I'd come on, there was a large door, with many symbols drawn upon it.

_The Pyramids took Emily in there . . . please, don't let me be too late_.

Sprinting, I opened the door and instantly found myself in awe. Stepping forward in a trance, my eyes were fixated dumbly at a large item right before me.

It was a large tank, filled with red liquid and having many, filthy rubber tubes connecting it to apparatus unseen, for the tubes went up through the ceiling. Inside the tank was a large, nude woman, about nine or ten feet tall, with pale grey skin, black hair down to her shoulders, and curled up in a ball as the liquid swirled around her.

The very sight of it made my blood run cold, sent shivers down my spine, and my heart beat wildly. A very horrible feeling passed through me like a shockwave, and I had to look away. I turned to the right. At the end of the room, on a strange, iron bed, was Emily, unbound yet unconscious. I was on the verge of running to her when I heard a terrible scratching noise. Approaching me, with long, bitter spears, were the remaining Pyramid Heads. I bit my lip and turned left to face them, hoisting Champion to my chest level and taking a few steps back. Lifting the gun to eye level, I pulled the trigger and loosed the first round, cocking it afterwards.

It hit the Pyramid Head dead-on, piercing his helmet and forcing him to step back – but these Pyramid Heads seemed driven, for he immediately began to come for me again. I turned immediately to the one on my right, and blasted it in the torso. He collapsed, but caught himself with his left hand, and, still gripping the spear, shambled after me once more. Taking a large step back, I cocked the gun and fired in nearly the same movement, breaking through his helmet and forcing his spine to curve backwards and him to step back twice, holding his arm out for balance.

By now they were almost on me, so I darted towards the left-most one. He stabbed out for where he thought I was going, but I quickly changed direction and swirved behind him through his left side, and pressed Champion's barrel against the back of his helmet. The ensuing blast was so powerful that he screamed a horrible cry and fell forward, thrashing. I could have killed him there, had I not been out of ammo, and if the other wasn't within spear range. I broke right and made for the other side of the **V**-shaped room, snatching four more shells out of my satchel and sliding them gracelessly into the rifle, panicking.

Cocking the gun, I brought it up and pumped another round into the standing Pyramid Head. He shrieked and turned around. I turned to the one that was standing and pumped him with another shell. He screamed and began shambling a little to my left. As I shot him again, I heard a sick cracking — turning back, I saw the other Pyramid had stuck his spear in a big, grey apparatus with four, square slits. He then walked to the stasis tank and began ripping the wires off.

_What? No!_

I started for him when I heard a similar crack behind me, and the other's spear was in a similar apparatus with four slits. I could read the text that was above them from where I was:

_Solitude, Arrogance, Order, Rage_.

_I forgot the placards . . . _

All my world came crashing down on me with that thought – everything I'd worked so hard for was in vain. I didn't have the placards – I didn't know their significance, but it seemed obvious that I'd need them. Falling to my knees, I let out a cry of utter hopelessness, banging my fist against the cold stone floor.

There was a loud rip, and the sound of liquid draining. Then the sound of glass breaking, and a great rush of liquid as of a waterfall. Looking up, the stasis chamber was broken, and all the tubes were split, hanging limply from it and the ceilign. Before, beside, and behind the stasis chamber there was a large pit, stretching deep and out of the range of sight – with a horrible cry, the Pyramids cast themselves into the chasm, ridding me of their presence forever.

I moved to the spear and gripped it tightly, but it wouldn't move. Maybe if the placards were in there, it would have, but it wouldn't help me any, still. Something in my mind told me that this foe was beyond me, way beyond me.

There came a great crash, and I spun around to see the tall, naked demon standing there, dripping red liquid all around her. With every step she took towards me, my headache increased. Once she was about ten feet from me, she turned to her left and pulled on one of the tubes. It ripped out, stiff, and she held it in her hand like a club. With a devilish smile, she closed in on me.

I raised Champion with a snarl, pumping the last round in the chamber at her head – it drilled through, but the wound instantly closed upon exiting. She loomed over me, her shadow enveloping me entirely. In an exaggerated movement, she lifted the tube to smite me.

Instinct told me to move.

With a cry of terror, I dove between her legs, stumbling but not falling down. I darted for the other side of the room. Quickly I slid the last four rounds I had for Champion into the gun, for all the good it'd do me. Maybe, if the first two didn't work, I could spend the first one on myself, and then Emily may be able to use the last round . . . or I could put Emily out first, then myself . . .

'David . . .' came a hollow voice from somewhere distant, and I searched frantically for the source. It appeared to be from a large puddle of black goo on the ceiling.

'The Placards . . . you must use them . . .' It was Thomas's voice. From the goo, my duffel dropped loudly to the ground, my saviour in such a dark time.

_Thank GOD for you, Thomas . . ._

'The Spears . . . pierce her . . . remove the veil . . . make her mortal . . .' The woman-monster was almost upon me when I realised what I was fighting.

The 'Holy' Mother.

The massive importance of the battle suddenly crystalised in my mind as I sprinted to her right – I heard the tube swipe through the air, felt it nick my shirt, but did not touch _me_ or hinder _me_. Unzipping the duffel when I reached it, I frantically grabbed _Solitude, Arrogance, Order, and Rage_. Running back to the spear's new home, I slid them in order and everything seemed to stop for a moment as I heard a loud _click_. I tugged the spear – it came out. Turning back to the Mother, I waited. She seemed reluctant to go near me now, and instead made quickly for Emily.

The Mother was not only ten feet tall, but was otherworldly, and thus she ran faster than I. Fortunately, I was the one closest to Emily, and just as the Mother raised her tube, I dove forward, piercing her stomach with the spear.

Instantly the spear dissipated in red smoke, and she flashed red as she fell to her knees. Then she quickly stood and turned on me, swinging the pipe. It hit my thigh head-on.

It must have been my lucky day, for I was thrown across the room, and landed not four feet from the bag. Then there came a sick, wet gurgle, and I saw the Mother's left arm _mutating_. Its grey skin peeled back to reveal a red, bloody claw with three, long spikes jetting out. Her arm took the same colour and texture, and her black eyes grew, her back arching and fangs growing as she snarled at me.

Rolling, I grabbed the last of the placards, _Anguish, Darkness, Treachery, and Heresy_, and broke for the second spear. She howled for three seconds, and then began to sprint. I was already there after she started to run, and I quickly jammed the placards in. The very moment _Heresy_ was in its respective slot, I fell back, barely avoiding the Mother's claw, which slashed the apparatus and sent sparks all over me. Scrambling to my feet, I swirved around her and grabbed the spear, pulling it out as I ran away.

She began running, and I clearly heard her stomping. Casting my gaze back, I saw her _leap_ into the air, and I instantly stopped, falling back and scrambling. She landed directly on top of me, slashing her claw against the floor, slicing the stone jaggedly. As she straightened her back, I seized the moment.

Leaping to stand, I stabbed the second spear into her spine.

A great cry echoed through the room, and the siren blared quicker and louder when she fell to the ground, gurgling and twisting her back wildly. Not thinking, I stepped back in complete terror. She stood once more, and I saw that her skin grew darker, and, somehow, knew that my job was done. She was mortal.

Wasting no time, I lifted Champion and pumped one round into her stomach. The wound did not repair, and blood sprayed everywhere – but she was resilient, as I thought, and stayed up. Running behind her, I cocked the rifle, spinning around to find that she was charging me like last time. Barely squeezing the trigger in time, the shell ripped through her right breast as she collided. The round had clearly fazed her, for she winced and didn't swing her claw. I was thrown, however, by her right arm's flailing, and landed hard on the stone floor, almost in the centre of the room. She was upon me by the time I recovered.

'Dave!' came a woman's voice from in front of me. Emily was standing, but barely so, for her terror was so extreme that she shook profusely as she limped towards me.

'Emma!' I screamed. 'Run!' The Mother saw Emily and roared, rearing back to charge her.

'Huh?' I whispered, not understanding this action. Then I remembered.

_Mother Reborn_.

'No!' I cried, sprinting for Emily. My legs were already in horrible pain, but I blocked it out, heaving breaths as I lifted Champion. Emily screamed and lifted her left arm to block the Mother — natural human instinct, but in vain.

Somehow, by some grace or some damn fool's luck, I reached her first.

Spinning my body around, I leapt into Emily, knocking her down, as I blindly fired Champion in the Mother's general direction. I then let Champion fall, and hit the ground hard next to Emily, Sitting up, I lifted her, not minding the Mother anymore, and laid her in my lap. She was in horrible pain, for she landed on her broken arm and I'd hit her broken leg. Planting one more kiss on her lips, I placed my hand over her eyes to block her vision as the Mother approached.

'Okay, bitch,' said through gritted teeth. 'You win.'

But several moments passed, and nothing happened. Looking at the Mother, she was staggering, screaming, clutching her chest as she fell to her knees, panting. At first I didn't understand. I couldn't, it just seemed to strange. She had us right where she wanted. All she had to do was attack, and we were dead. I still had one shell, but it wouldn't have done much good, since three didn't do much either.

In one startling revelation, I remembered the last shot, fired blindly, so I didn't know where I'd hit. Once more, some divine force or endless luck had delivered us. Champion, my dear rifle, had pierced the Cursed Mother's lung.

I stood up, laying Emily on the ground, and approached the Mother. She looked up at me, but didn't try to attack me, though I'm sure she wanted to. All she did was gurgle, and snarl at me. Emily stood up, still crying, but when she saw this sight, she made no noise and approached me.

Silently, I pressed the barrel of Champion against the Mother's forehead.

'Game over,' I whispered as a grin somehow slid over my face.

As I pulled the trigger, a rush of utter elation overcame my nervous system. The final shell of my rifle sailed from the barrel and through her head. Just as her brain matter landed on the floor, the siren faded, and the world shook. A quiet hum echoed through the room, and I began to feel light headed. Emily fell down with a sigh.

'Emily?' I asked as I struggled to stay standing – I fell forward and lost consciousness


	31. Epilogue: Daylight

Epilogue: Daylight

Warmth.

Light.

Things I never thought I'd feel again. To wake upon my bed with my eyes viewing a naturally lit ceiling was gratifying. As I sat up, I saw the daylight coming through the window. From outside the birds chirped, and cars whizzed by, a normal day in Ashfield. It took a few minuted to draw the conclusion:

I had conquered the Cursed Mother and Ralph Derecks.

As I basked in the light, I smiled and closed my eyes. For many minutes I sat there, so satisfied and relieved that my dilemma was over, that I'd never fight a rust-demon or sahagin, or ever see Pyramid Head, or ever have to listen to Derecks's voice. Finally I stood up and went to my bathroom, taking a hot shower that lasted thirty minutes.

I dressed myself in a white undershirt and another red work shirt, different jeans, and washed my boots before I left the house. My road, the grass, the sun – it all felt so good to see, to feel, to be able to admire from _outside_ the house. My neighbour's cat ran across my yard – a robin landed on my mailbox – a nearby jogger waved me hello. All of these things I took for granted, all these things I held dear, were finally returned to me.

I found myself crying, so utterly happy to be out of that nightmare. I returned to my house, turned on the radio, put in a Led Zeppelin tape, and examined my house to see if anything remained. The holes were gone, but the one leading under the house was still there – all the items I'd obtained from my travels were on the floor – my bag lay on the floor in the living room, with all the items that had been in it. Everything had happened in reality.

But the thought did not disturb me. All that had happened was minuscule in comparison to the relief that I felt to finally be out of my house. I leapt into my car and drove to St. Jerome's Hospital, after I put Champion back in its place. Once there, I found Emily's room and went up to visit her.

Opening the door slowly, I said quietly 'Emily?' Emily was laying upright in her bed, still injured, but the demon blood was gone, and the injuries she'd sustained from Ralph's twisted world. Upon seeing me, she smiled and called out 'David!'

Smiling, relieved that she'd survived, I approached the bed and stood before it. 'Did you bring me anything?' she asked with playful sarcasm.

'Uh . . .' I said, 'would you like me to bring the plank? That's all I have, kinda . . .'

She giggled and pulled me down, planting a large, passionate kiss on my mouth. When we broke lips, she said 'That was better than any plank, Dave.'

'Hey, that plank is pretty cool . . . considering the fact that it shouldn't exist, as it came from the hole, and the hole is gone . . .' She shook her head, laughing.

'Well, the doctors say that I'm getting better. Only a few more days, and I'll be out of here.' She adjusted nervously. 'Um, Dave?'

'Yeah?'

'. . . thanks . . . for protecting me. I'm . . . really glad I had you.'

'Ahh, don't mention it. Others would have been better. I just happened to be there.'

'Oh really?' she asked. 'Doesn't it seem like more than coincidence that I was _#20_ and you were _#21_? That we were both on the list?'

'Never really thought about it . . .' I said, thinking for a reason. 'I guess it was coincidence.'

'Hmm.' We both were silent for a moment.

'Visiting hours are almost over,' I said.

'Really?' She sighed. 'Well, then I love you, David.'

'Love you too.'

When visiting hours were done, I looked up South Ashfield Heights, and drove there, arriving at dusk. Walking to the front door, I hit a button on the panel to the left, a button with 'Superintendent Sunderland' beside it. I thought the alliteration was hilarious, but didn't say anything.

'Uh, yes?' came an old man's voice.

'Yes, superintendent Sunderland?' I asked, stemming the laugh.

'This is him. May I help you?'

'Um, my name is David Willand. Does a Mr. Henry Townshend live here?'

'Yes, he's in Room #302.' The doors opened. 'Have a nice day, sir.'

'Thanks.' I walked into the somewhat dilapidated lobby, and ascended the stairs until I came to the top floor, since there were only three. Walking through the hallway, I found #302 almost at the end, second only to #301. Nervously, I knocked thrice, in quick succession. For a few seconds I stood there, hands in my pockets, until a man about my height, weight, dressed in a green T-shirt with '_Konami_' written across it in red letters, blue jeans, and boots not unlike mine, opened the door.

'Hello,' he said, a little skeptical. 'Do I know you?'

'Henry?' I asked, chuckling a little to disarm his suspicion (the reason of which I'll never know). 'Henry Townshend? I'm David – David Willand. We went to high school together.'

'Oh, Dave!' he said, laughing a little. 'I remember you. You were in that goth band . . . "Cries of Passion" or something.'

I sighed and looked down. 'Yeah, that was me. I played bass.' That was not a very fond memory for me, since it was the first (and last) time I ever used an illegal substance, and one of our bandmates died. I looked up, trying to recall something about him. 'Weren't you in the school paper, the photographer, the one with braces and a mullet.'

'Yup, that's me. Didn't you have a crush on that girl, Janine Lackenspel?' Janine Lackenspel had been an butt-faced, chunky girl who spit when she talked; a dumb rumour had circulated that I liked her.

'You know, let's not make this a competition,' I said, tired of these petty blows at each other.

'Just messing with you,' he said, laughing and holding out his hand. I shook it, and he motioned me to come in. His room was nice, though a little dull, it was clean and had some nice furniture. Taking a seat on a nice, soft chair, leaned back and sighed.

'Cool pad,' I said.

'You want anything to drink?' he asked as he looked through his refrigerator.

'You got any liquor?' I asked.

'White or red?' he asked, holding up two bottles of wine.

'White,' I said. I noticed a red book on the table, with a ball-point pen next to it. Part of me considered leafing through it, but, out of respect for Townshend, I didn't. He handed me a wine glass with some white wine in it, and I took a sip. It was good, as far as liquor goes.

'So, what brings you here?' he asked as he sat on the sofa, drinking wine too.

I became very reluctant to ruin such a beautiful day by stirring some possibly dark, scarring memories up for him, but my own curiosity overcame my caution.

'Henry . . .' I said slowly. 'It was about four days ago that something awful happened to me. I woke up and my front door was chained up . . .' His face became grave and he set his wine down. '. . . and all my windows sealed. For three days, I couldn't get out, until the third, when a hole spawned in my laundry room. It led to this twisted world, with monsters and ghosts, and I saw people die. _Die_, Henry. Four of them. I found out that a guy named Ralph Derecks was behind it – and he knew a man named . . .' I trailed off.

'Walter Sullivan?' he finished darkly, biting his lip. 'Look, David, I don't know what you're doing, or how you even found out about that, but—'

I stood up: 'I'm not lying Henry. Shaun . . . something, _16121_, _Solitude_; Monica Judillin, _17121_, _Arrogance_; Blake Thurle,_ 17121_, _Order_; Ben . . . uh, something, _19121_, _Rage_; Emily Callel, _20121_, _Mother Reborn_; David Willand, _21121_, _Receiver of Wisdom_.' I sat down. 'Tell me what happened with Sullivan, Henry, I _need_ to know!' Townshend bit his lip and held the bridge of his nose.

'Henry, Pepsi wasn't on sale so I got Dr. Pepp––' came a woman's voice as she opened the door. She was undeniably attractive: medium length brown hair, dashing green eyes, nice, curving figure but not to the point of being anorexic, and good facial features. She was in a purple tank-top, short-shorts, and sneakers.

_Eileen Galvin, I presume_.

'Oh, hello,' she said, setting down a small bag of groceries as she handed Townshend three dollar bills of which I could not see the value. 'Who are you?'

'Uh, name's David Willand.'

'Eileen,' she said smiling and offering me her hand – I shook it and she turned to Henry. 'And Sunderland wanted to know if you wanted the light fixed today, or tomorrow. He can't on Saturday, because he got a call from his son or something, and he's going to visit him.'

'Tomorrow,' Townshend said after a moment of thinking. Eileen waved me a small goodbye as she kissed Townshend and walked out the door. He turned back to me and sighed.

'Before I tell you anything,' he said, 'you tell me _your_ story.'

So I recounted to him the events that unfolded, and he was silent, taking it all in with no questions. He seemed intrigued by the Pyramids, and by the events in the Necropolis — when my tale was done, he sat for a moment.

'Wow,' he breathed.

'You don't believe me, do you?' I asked, disappointed.

'I do. Too much clarity to be fabricated — I've never told anyone except Eileen what I've seen, and some things she's seen with me. And the hole, the murders, the Mother Reborn and Wisdom, all of it was accurate. Unless you're a member of that cult, then you can't know about any of that.'

'No!' I said.'I'm not with those psychos.'

Townshend nodded and was silent for a moment, then said 'You wanted to hear my story? Well, here it is . . .'

Townshend's story was not unlike mine, though there were many differences — I found my desire to know more quenched, even clarified by him showing me the very axe he used to kill Sullivan. Despite my hunger for all the details, I refrained from questions, as Townshend recalled the whole experience with such difficulty. The whole thing appeared a blow to him, especially having to kill Sullivan while Eileen walked to her death.

When he finished, it was 3:00 am, and I was extremely tired. After shaking Townshend's hand and giving him my number in case he needed me (and vise-versa), I drove my car home. Shuffling up to my room, I threw myself onto my bed.

As I drifted off into a deep sleep, all I could think about was how lucky I was, and how good my life was now. It'd be hard to get things back on track, especially with work and school, but now me and Emily were together, I'd reconnected with Townshend, and had escaped the clutches of Derecks. Smiling, I closed my eyes, looking forward to every moment of tomorrow, the next day, and all the days left to come.

_**The End**_

— _David Willand_

/\/\/\/\/\

_Well, this is the closing of 'The Holy Mother', my second story on Silent Hill. Following this story will be a very short hiatus, since writing every day has been a bit of a strain on me. It'll be really short, so if you liked this, don't worry — I'll be back soon, and there may be a few one-shots to grace my portfolio._

_Like the end of 'The Red Angel', here are the credits:_

_I'd like to thank my reviewers, especially Darkcomet, spearofhope, and Randell-Flagg; reviews are kind of like fuel for me, they keep me going._

_I'd also like to thank WordPerfect, since it's my favourite word-processor that I've come across yet._

_To my crew at school: Nate, Paul, Josh, and Brian._

_To Jacob from my bus for enduring my ramblings without protest (I should have done this one with 'The Red Angel')._

_To my family, who I love and value more than anything. Oh, and my dog, too._

_Everyone involved in the creation of Silent Hill._

_Too many rock bands to count. for allowing this to be possible._

_And you, the reader, for reading this (even if you skipped all the previous chapters). Yours truly — EternalFlare_


End file.
